Somewhere
by dropout-ninja
Summary: Hawkins, Indiana, was a sleepy town that avoided the drama and tragedy of cities. Until a young girl goes missing. Her father, her friends and government soldiers she's never met begin the desperate hunt to find the child before something sinister does instead. Genderswap AU of season 1
1. The Vanishing of Willow Byers

_Stranger Things and its characters do not belong to me. All rights go to their respective owners._  
_AN- First things first- this is a genderswap AU. That means (many of) the main characters will have the opposite genders as they did in canon. This was the first genderswap I'd written and it turned out to be__ a very long experiment that spiraled out of control and gave me a new appreciation for the show._  
_Next off- this was originally posted on Archive of Our Own and was intended to be __a prequel of sorts to my friend__ IceCreamRaven's series Difficult Girl(s)._

_Now on to warnings: there will be spoilers for season 1 and the other seasons, references to the comic made about Will's time in the Upside Down, and many, many (especially in this chapter) references/shared dialogue/paraphrased descriptions to/with the show and some pretty heavy references to the 2015 script for that episode (which is in fact quite a bit of fun to read any of you are interested). Canon typical language (including slurs), sex, violence and drug use (specifically cigarettes and Tuinal [an old barbiturate] that is not endorsed), emotional abuse and overall the darkness typical to the show. It won't rise above the canon typical content so it will not rise from a T to an M._  
_Genders that remain the same as canon are (in IceCreamRaven's series) Neil Hargrove and Susan Mayfield, so following that sort of groundwork there is not a 100% switch in genders here although many are. Some examples of those that aren't are Dustin's mom, Callahan and Powell, Mr. Clarke, Mr. Sinclair and the mummy Ms. Ratliff._

_Most importantly, if you've made it through the long Author's Note, I hope you enjoy this chapter and those to come!_

* * *

Somewhere, a lone scientist was running frantically down a lightless hall; the overwhelming fears stemmed from the thing behind that had no warning, no description, no qualms for devouring humans as soon as it arrived.

Somewhere, a white haired director of a program unknown to the public eye was simultaneously celebrating the alien discoveries made and furious at the loss of the Department's greatest weapon.

And somewhere, there was a frantic and unbelievably powerful young boy; a child filled with terror of the horrifying monsters he had unleashed on the world and desperate hope of escape from both those monsters and the ones of the past that this small tunnel to the outside world offered.

* * *

"Something is coming..."

The game masters voice kept the attention of all. Three faces, all plastered with the same serious nervousness, drew even closer over the game board under the blanket fort.

Mikaela allowed the tenseness to grow, thriving in their anticipation. Dark bangs fell over her eyes and she made no move to change their position. From under the hair, she could see her friends reactions without them seeing hers. Then, Mikaela threw her head back and shouted out the final reveal, the name of the creature that would seal their fate, and watched the pandemonium unfold.

"I knew it!" Dusty's voice rose above the others, "I told you! Will, cast protection."

"Fireball him!"

"Cast protection!"

"Guys shush!" Mikaela interrupted the argument with a hiss. The other three girls fell silent. "You know my parents don't like me using Nat's old DnD stuff."

They all nodded seriously. The threat of their new favorite game being taken away from them was too great a risk to ignore. As soon as the second had passed, three of them turned again to their witch.

"I-guys, I don't know what to do," the shortest girl admitted. She was immediately bombarded by suggestions.

"Fireball!"

"Protection!"

The earlier threat was forgotten again in the heat of battle.

Willow Byers bit her lip in indecision. Her eyes flicked back and forth from one ally to another to the figurine on the board. Slowly, Willow's hand moved for the dice; her gaze was still moving around the fort and its occupants. Metal eyes from duel serpentine heads mocked them all from the game board. The hand inched closer...closer...

"Destinee!" The door of the basement opened and the four girls instantly sprung into movement to cover their game in the blankets of the fort. "Your mother is here!"

Mr. Wheeler's voice brought an end to their fighting.

"Now look," Destinee said as she crawled out of the fort first, "Our indecision has killed the party." Behind Lucy crawled Willow. The shorter girl looked more upset than the others at the words.

"Sorry- I didn't mean to; I just, I didn't know what to cast."

"It's fine. It's fine guys," Mikaela put an arm on Willow's back, "Sure the demogorgon got you this time but next time the campaign will be even better and you all will be better prepped. Right Dusty?"

At her glare, the other kid gave a shrug and laid off the party's resident witch. Dusty, an embarrassing nickname given by her mother that was in turn accepted by her friends, left the basement to be driven away; on her tail, Lucy was hurrying upstairs as well. Willow paused a moment and looked back at Mikaela.

"I'm sorry. I know you put a lot of time into that campaign and sorry I just blew it-"

"We'll finish some other time," the taller girl cut her off with a smile. When the first didn't seem to cheer up, Mikaela placed her hands on her arms and continued in her unfortunately nasally voice, "Hey. Will. Don't worry about it. You don't need to apologize."

Willow glanced up and smiled back. Out of all four friends, the Byers girl and the Wheeler girl seemed the most similar. Both had bangs that at times obscured their vision, even if Mikaela's hair was long where Willow's was a bob, both had long noticeable noses and both had eyes that seemed, if one paid too much attention to them, to look a little bit sadder than one's their age should be.

"See you tomorrow," Willow said, grinning backwards as she ran up the stairs with Mikaela close on her heels.

Mrs. Henderson had already stolen Dusty away by the time Lucy and Willow had their bikes ready to go. In the evening of a cold Indiana night, both kids started out onto the streets.

Lucy was allowed to bike at night because of the mere proximity between the Wheeler's house and the Sinclair's house. Destinee rode to school but was almost always picked up by her smothering mother if she stayed out past dark. But Will almost always rode home. Her father was busy working late shifts or otherwise busy and her sister was working when she wasn't in school. It helped ease the family load if she could transport herself.

The house lights faded away as she rode towards Mirkwood. Being used to riding alone meant she had been forced to exorcise the frights born of wild imaginings long before; she focused on pedaling and whenever some shadow made her imagination wild, Willow shut down on the thought forcefully. Still, this night the forest seemed more quiet than usual. Cicadas were the only animal sound and, other than those, the wind blowing was the only other noise disrupting the nights still; she found herself frowning and her legs unconsciously pedalled faster. Right past the sign warning about trespassing into Hawkins National Laboratory's territory.

Disrupting her vision, the light on her bike flickered momentarily. Willow looked down at it before it turned back on. After that strange disruption, she looked up again and-

Willow yanked the handlebars of her bike so hard it flew from the road to the dirt besides it. There had been-it was a-she'd seen a-a-

What had she seen? The young girl's heart was pounding harder than it ever had in her life; it was her evidence that _she had just seen something_. On the road, visibly silhouetted in the fog, had been a...a... _something_. A shape so human but so _tall_, so _wrong_-

Then she heard the _sound_-

And all thoughts that it had been an imagined figure made up in the lack of light disappeared. From the road came a chittering noise mixing with a deep growl. The first sounds other than a cicada she'd heard that night. The hair on her arms, neck, shoulders, everywhere, lifted in primal fear. For a second Willow lay in the dirt trying to comprehend those sounds and that sight and this naseauting fear engulfing her; then, the instant foliage began to rustle near her, she ran. Sprinted.

Willow wasn't a very athletic kid. It had been one of her mom's source annoyances; her mother had been a competitive dancer and gymnast and hated her daughter's ineptitude. But tonight she ran from the road to her house without running out of stamina or stalling once. She was being fueled by pure terror.

Chester barked when she slammed her way into the house. Willow ignored the mutt; she was busy calling, screaming, for her family. There was no reply.

Everything became worse when she ran back to the living room to look outside. The murky night was lit up dimly by yellow porch lights. The faint illumination revealed _the thing_; it was standing, misproportioned, twisted, revolting, where the laundry fluttered. The fear, the unnatural events and person, the emptiness of the house- Willow felt her throat trying to sob. On a base primal level, she knew to flee from danger and on a base level she knew that thing was dangerous. It was going to get her. No one would help.

There would be no help. The phone proved that. Instead of a dial tone and another human voice, all Willow could hear were _sounds_. Even as it changed in pitch, for all she knew in a manner that meant speaking for it, the 'voice', if she could call it that, was guttural. Growls and chirps that rose and fell chilled her to the core.

Chester was barking again. Willow dropped the phone and ran to the dog, rushing to quiet him. But her attention left the dog as soon as she glanced up- there was a shadow over the door. The lock was sliding away. As if by magic. As if the spells she cast in Miki's game were real...

A moment later and the shaggy mutt had been left alone. It stared after her departing back and growled at the door again. No alien growls returned his canine warning. The lock hung swinging free but nothing pushed the door open. The crack at the bottom and the window above were both an uninterrupted, unshadowed, yellow light.

Breathing came in hard gasps. Willow slammed the door of the shed shut behind her and slid down. She let herself have a moment to calm her breaths and choke on fear. Behind her back was the locked door and she braced against it in defense. Protection.

The bulb in the shed buzzed and flickered once. Like her bike's had.

The girl shot up from the ground and found the remington rifle with a shaky hand. When it was loaded and ready, she turned its shaking barrel towards the door. Pointed it, ready, intended for the thing outside.

Fireball.

Breath in. Breath out. Nothing moved the door. The bulb buzzed harder and brightened. The bright light showcased the shadow forming on the floor from something behind her.

Willow turned. The gun remained unfired. Its muzzle drifted downwards; if it had been a bear or a crazed murderer, maybe she could have shot. But the thing in the shed with her was indescribable; she just stared. Paralyzed by fear. Shock.

There was a high, but no less alien and predatory than the guttural growling had been, shriek.

The child's lips wobbled, wordless; she fought tears. The scream continued- hands, _hands_, hands? long misporportioned and gray reached out towards the petrified girl. The light was near its breaking point. Something dark pink dripped from the ceiling in multiple spots. The shed was now too white to see the slime.

Then the horrid noise stopped. The light calmed down to its dim yellow once more.

And the shed was empty.

* * *

The blinds of the trailer failed to keep thin lines of sun from streaming in. They fell on pills. They fell on bottles. They fell on papers scattered to and fro. They fell across the eyes of Jane Hopper, who grimaced in sleepy response.

The woman shifted on the couch, causing a plastic goblet to fall from her lap to the floor of the trailer below.

The sun remained persistent. Its ever brightening light won the battle; she groaned but began to move.

Jane Hopper was currently hungover. She was also feeling the remnants of last night's anger, regret and disappointment. It was a horrible combination to wake to. No matter how bad her head felt, she forced herself up and stretched bare arms overhead; she had crashed on the couch in only a bra and the ratty jeans she had brought with her on the previous days venture. Unconsciously, one hand's fingers grazed the blue bracelet on her left wrist as she held the two arms close above her yawning head.

First things first. Stimulation.

She never smoked in the trailer- it was one of her few rules she put on herself. Yes, she let herself use the same poison that had second hand caused the death of...that train of thought was quickly dismissed; but she would only work on killing her lungs outside.

Mist rolled off the surface of the lake. The woman enjoyed it for the length of time it took her to drag on a camel before the cold became too much for her bare torso. The morning routine passed robotically. Shower. Consideration over brushing hair. Passing on the activity and letting the rats nest stay for now. Swallowed Tuinal. Regretted waking.

Jane preferred to go by the nickname 'Hop'. It had been given when she was much younger, both because of her last name and her long gone energy. Later in life it was deemed 'too masculine' to fit a lady like her.

She was also told the job she continued to fight for was a man's job.

Jane Hopper kept her nickname.

New Hampshire had a captain in their state police force that just so happened to be a female by 1941. Maybe if Hop had lived over there, she could be accepted into the ranks and rise to that sort of position.

Captain Jane Hopper. It had a nice ring to it. For now she'd settle with far less; a sergeant, a corporal, she didn't care at this point. She just wanted in.

Hawkins Police had taken her on as a secretary of sorts. Hop was good at the job. She had spent a good chunk of years in journalism. Writing and reading came easily- so reading the telegraphs and keeping track of the different calls made to the department was not a challenge to her. She had done it for over four years. Left investigative journalism behind to pick this job up. When she was a journalist she had been seeking answers; trying to uncover messes and find answers, culprits, reasons. Now she wanted to do those same things just in a more...hands on field. Instead she gave coffee to her co-workers, the 'real' cops, handed out what calls had come in, and organized files.

Every so often she did something extra. Went and dug around for the truth outside her job. And every so often she'd bring back what she found to the policemen. Yesterday had been one of those days. Hop had something, she swore she did. The people that lived near Hawkins Lab noticed small things off about their life. Weird electricity. Occasional static on the phone, TV, radio or records that seemed a bit unnatural. When she had brought the files, documents of recorded steps she had taken and witness reports, to the _police she worked with_ on the weekdays they turned them down. She'd been told it was crazy. Told she was starting to sound like ol' Murray. Jane Hopper had not intended in any way to sound like that other woman- Murray was a well known conspiracy theorist that used to hassle the department during Hop's early years working there. An old opened wine bottle was poured into a plastic goblet and met the company of beer from cans thrown aside in frustrated anger. Eventually she had passed out sometime in the night.

The other day had put a damper on her enthusiasm to go to work. Hop struggled to get up and move towards putting on the tweed skirt and jacket and pinning that pseudo I-give-the-real-cops-their-donuts-and-file-their-paperwork badge onto the thick belt that bisected the suit at the waist.

* * *

"...where's Willow?"

It was a question that disrupted an otherwise average morning. John Byers was up later than usual and had been moving around too quickly to get everything in order. He stopped to give his oldest daughter a soft embrace and peck on the top of the head, grab keys that had lost themselves in the couch, and snag toast from the counter where Johanna was working.

And then the morning that played out like any other made itself a name. It changed to one that the two oldest Byers would always remember.

It was the morning that Willow Byers was not in her room.

And there was not one sign of her in the house or yard.

* * *

School felt weird without Willow. Her bike wasn't in its stand like it always was; the Byers' family couldn't afford to drive her here when they had their own work.

"-your dad's right. Like her dad said and your dad said, she just came earl-"

Lucy's calming sentence was broken off by giggling.

"Look. Look over here!"

It was an eighth grader: Tracy. Tracy and her tall friend Jenni.

"Aw, look at them," the girl made a mocking sad face, "They're missing their weird little friend."

She jumped off the short wall she had been perched on and her blonde friend followed.

"So tell me; who do you think scares off all their chances at good friends? Frogface," Tracy pointed at Mikaela, "Midnight," Lucy scowled, "or Toothless?"

"Hmph," Jenni scoffed through her nose. "That's hard to say. I suppose..."

The pretty girl looked over them all while the other smiled without showing any teeth at their direction.

"Toothless."

"My teeth are coming in. I told you a million times, it's called cleidocranial dysplasia-" Destinee began to explain without much enthusiasm.

"Don't stress about it," Tracy interrupted her, "Even if you had a working body, you'd still scare everyone off. That's what the result of being a weirdo that brings frogs and snakes into class gets- the bottom of the barrel, right what you have now ladies and gentlemen. Oh wait...I suppose you only have two thirds of that crusty unwanted barrel bottom with you now. The little queer isn't here yet."

"Shut up!" Mikaela cut her off with a start at the insult to currently still absent Willow.

The duo laughed. They gripped each others hands and Jenni let off a passing remark about not worrying since they "don't want to be seen associating with you freaks too long" before they strode off like innocent little schoolgirls. Mikaela was still scowling at their backs when the others had recovered. The expression fit her insulting title more aptly than was fortunate.

"Come on," Lucy waved them on without disguising her own frown at the encounter, "Let's go. We can catch up with Willow in class."

* * *

"So? Did you call her?"

Nathaniel Wheeler was a tall teen. Somehow, even with his own height, his best friend still stood over him with curiosity plastered on that round face of his.

"Wha-shh."

"Come'n Nat," Bart grinned, "I don't know why you're being so secretive."

"No, it's just- you know her. She and Carl and Tammy, they're all the same cut. It's not like that."

The redhead looked down unimpressed.

"Really? I know you; you wouldn't have kept up with this if all of you were just after what's under each others pants and nothing more."

The brunette grinned. Blue eyes sparkled mischievously.

"Alright fine," he held out his hands to the side in surrender, "Maybe she does like me. Maybe we even," here his voice lowered so only Bart could hear in the high school hallway, "made out a couple times. And then talked. And...wow, is she beautiful but also a really fun person underneath that popular veneer..."

The redhead scoffed and shook his head with a grin.

"I knew it. You're going to be popular now though, you realize that."

Nat pretended to gag.

"Gah I hope not. I'd be stuck with Carl and Tammy-"

"-And Stephanie-"

"Maybe we'll ditched them both? And then I'll bring Steph over to our table and we'll never have to see those other two's faces again."

Under his glasses Bart rolled his eyes.

"Yeah right. Besides, I don't know if I want to third wheel you two. I'd rather just hang out with you in the science lab alone."

"And we will!" Nat promised, hitting his friend's arm, "But first...I've got a date with the bathroom."

The teen spun around and practically pranced down the hall. The redhead coughed and shook his head.

"_In_ the bathroom more like."

* * *

Life behind the glass partition was the same as it always was. Hop drank from her mug of coffee and shuffled through her paper halfheartedly. Phil Larson's garden gnomes. Ms. Henderson's cat. Georgie Hanson's missing tackle and rod.

Typical Hawkins fare.

Chief Forest walked from his office into the open space of the station to grab his coffee. After pouring it into the mug black, he turned and blew on it while scanning the room. When his eyes fell across Hop at work behind her partition, he tilted his head in a welcoming nod.

"Good of you to show," the chief said. It was in an affable manner; Forest and Hop had worked comfortably together since he became the chief four years before.

"Mornin' to you too, chief," she replied casually. Forest went back to blowing on his coffee and scanning the room. The other two officers on duty had hidden their cards the moment he walked out of his office.

"Hey," he turned back to Hop after he had taken his first gulp. "No smoking on the job."

She regretfully snubbed her second cigarette of the morning out.

Giving his neck a crack, the chief threw back the rest of the coffee and set the cup aside. When his office door shut again, Hop reached for another camel and lit it up.

Between a drag of stimulant and a sip of stimulant, Hop continued her morning shuffle through the papers.

Oh.

There was a new one. Jane Hopper had been working around Hawkins and never seen a more big-city type crime hit the tables of this station. But missing kids were something more similar to her old line of work journaling. And now there was a missing kid in Hawkins.

Hop set her mug aside and began to chew on the cigarette as she pulled the report closer. Her hand went on its own to her notebook and pencil, just as it began to scribble without much mental permission.

Willow Byers.

12.

Last seen at the Wheeler residence biking home.

Hop continued scribbling well into the morning. She was interrupted when the door banged aside. The culprit was bundled up in red flannel and an old aviator jacket. The puffy clothing made him look even more burly than he was; when he turned, his expression looked bordering exhaustion. Dark circles lay under eyes and he ran a hand exasperatedly down his fuzzy beard.

"John," Hop stood from her desk. The single father stopped casting his scattered gaze around the room to stare at her.

"Oh. Hello Jane," the veteran sounded less gruff and jovial than normal; his tone is distant, anxious. "Is Chief Renca here?"

She pointed at his door. "In his office. Ready to talk."

John nodded vaguely, already looking away. "Thank you."

The bundled man moved to the door. Every bit stressed over the absence of his child. But at the very least his child hadn't been found dead. No doubt John was hanging onto every bit of hope his child was alright.

A few minutes later and a few muffled shouts drifted out.

"-not like most!"

"-what about the other-"

"-ninety-nine. What about the one-"

"-her. Find my-"

Long ignored hurt echoed sympathetically in Hop; she grimaced at the feeling. Throwing the camel aside for the moment, the secretary looked down at her notes.

John slammed out of the chiefs office and stopped mid step to take a deep breath. His hand ran down his face and beard again. Then he picked up his feet again and strode from the station- frustration etched deep.

Did Forest brush the case aside? Granted in his shoes, Hop would first question if the kid was just off playing hooky- Lord knew she did that plenty when she was young. But everyone knew the Byers were different. And John was a well respected man in the community; if he thought his daughter was in danger instead of just off dodging school, most of the town, herself included, would agree.

Well...Hop looked down at her messy desk again. Even if her official job was here as a secretary, she had done the occasional (very rare) journaling report in Hawkins. Certainly, she wasn't an officer. But she was certainly not going to be stopped for her own independent digging. John Byers deserved her to do nothing less.

* * *

The director wore a crisp but casual suit. The jacket hung open and flapped behind her as she led a group of NSA agents down the corridor. They were not alone. Scientists crowded the halls, moving, exchanging positions, causing overall chaos.

"We've evacuated the east wing-sealed it off, following quarantine protocol-" one scientist explained. The quarantine plastic door was zipped open. If the NSA agents didn't understand why there was such panic or why the hazmat suit procedure followed the door, none said. Director Marta Brenner just looked straight ahead as her hood was secured. The white haired woman hadn't slept in days. Joining them as they entered the freight elevator were soldiers with rifles with flashlights secured on mounts. Every agent had been told an explanation for why they were here. Still, carrying heavy weaponry inside of a contained lab seemed...strange to say the least. Overkill.

It wouldn't be if the wild stories were true.

The elevator door opened to a scene out of fiction. The flashlights illuminated the cloudy hall, the spores floating, the cracks in the cement.

The corridor felt _dead_.

And yet at the same time, it felt alive- _spreading_.

As they continued down, fleshy growths crawled like vines or mold on the walls, floors, and ceilings. Any doubts were erased in the feeling of wrong such a scene instilled in each agent.

"...this is where it came from?" an agent asked steadily. Too steadily. The speech delivery was clearly forced calm. He had gestured towards the undulating _thing_ on the wall. Pink was visible behind slimy vines; the pink some, the veterans or those who had been at situations gone south, recognized to look like the shine of intestinal walls. The mold-like growths had completely taken over the wall where the glimpses of red came from. The wall throbbed, breathed, growled.

_Alive_.

Brenner nodded. Alert eyes watched the 'rift' as if she thought something would jump through if she blinked. Inside the infected room there was still view of a horizontally fallen isolation tank. The clear window had broken and any water once inside had leaked onto the now overgrown floor. Vines had crawled over part of it but not gone inside; it was empty. There was no one in it _anymore_.

"And," the agent in charge tore his gaze from the abomination, "the child?"

Finally the director moved her head from the gateway to land on the remains of the tank.

"He can't have gone far," she rasped quietly.

* * *

Unbeknownst to Bethany Hammond, someone was watching her as she tossed a bag of trash from her greasy hands into the garbage bin; standing barefoot in the woods was a young child.

The feature that stood out most on the young boy was his attire. There, out in the middle of an Indiana forest, he wore no shoes and only a hospital gown with dirt clinging on the ripped trim.

Beth still didn't realize the boy was there after she had returned to chatting with her usual customers while the child watched her from the kitchen. Watched _and_ ate. He had never seen one of the long yellow finger length food items but he was raptured by their flavor as he shoved more and more in. Through the glass-less window he watched the chef chat. Her tattooed arms were folded and she exchanged sports talk with a few older men and women. Beth looked up from her customers and froze when she saw the child devouring fries in her kitchen.

"Wh-Hey! Hey you!"

The boy froze as well, although only for a moment. Then, the bald child grabbed his newfound treasure and fled. The chef was fast after him and managed to grip him at the backdoor.

"Think you can just steal..." Bethany relaxed her grip slightly on the skinny little arms when she turned him around and got a good look. He continued to struggle but never said a word; his eyes were wide as he fought futily against the adult.

"...what in the hell?"

Brown eyes locked with blue and pierced them like no eyes ever had before. Certainly no child's.

"Kid," the woman leaned back a bit. She was alarmed. The slight boy had on a muddy hospital gown of all things. He looked more scared than just a kid busted stealing food would. "Kid, are you alright?"

The regulars left at her request. That left just her and the kid. Beth grabbed him a green tee shirt from the merchandise pile that never saw much use anyways. The X-large fell down to the child's knees. He never said a word to complain.

He never said a word period.

Beth didn't like it; didn't like the mutism. It spoke of something bad. Abuse? Most likely. The kid never stopped eating his burger, devouring it like his life depended on it. Finally she couldn't take it. The plate and burger were grabbed away from the child. He looked at her accusingly.

"I'll give it back, you can have as much as you like, maybe even some ice cream; but first, you gotta answer a few of my questions. We got a deal? We'll start easy. My name's Beth. Bethany Hammond."

She engulfed his skinny little hand in her own. Shook it limply; he made no effort to reciprocate the common action.

"Nice to meet ya. And you are...?"

There was a moment of silence. Beth found her own eyes rolling as she sighed before they landed on the pale little wrist. Standing out against the skin was dark lettering.

011.

"...Eleven? What's that mean?"

He jerked his hand away and spoke for the first time: "No."

His second word spoken that day, after she had moved to take the burger away, was that which he pointed to himself to say: "Eleven."

* * *

Willow...wasn't at school. The trio of girls waited anxiously for her to arrive throughout class. Even Mr. Clarke's usual manner of presenting science didn't perked them from their focus on their missing friend. But they did manage to put those thoughts aside for a very pressing matter: the Heathkit ham shack.

"Ain't she a beaut?"

"Oh yeah," Destinee said wide eyed. "Beautiful. I bet-I bet we could talk on New York with this!"

"Or California!" Lucy was quick to interject the name of her favorite, although still unvisited, state.

"Think... _bigger_."

It was Mikaela that said it. Spoke up in an awed voice after a few seconds silence.

"Australia?"

A pleased nod.

"Ohhh, holy shi-"

"Lucy!"

The girl flushed and looked away- busted.

"Sorry."

Then, the moment immediately forgotten, she ran with the others to begin playing with the radio.

Just like the other two, Lucy enjoyed science. Destinee was the most technologically minded but her attention was easily drawn away from such mechanics by the biology of creatures most other girls (and many of the middle school boys, even if they hid it) were disgusted by. Mikaela liked science but her interests fell more with generic reasoning. Where her curly haired friend could explain how a radio was built, Mikaela could debunk reasoning flaws and enjoyed fighting her way through difficult logic puzzles. Lucy already knew she had a desire to explore physics in higher education and to enjoy what little she learned in middle school; the math involved wouldn't be an obstacle to her technical mind.

And then there was Willow. Willow enjoyed science. She really did. But she most often took what she learned, whether a new fact about the brain or the characteristics of an exotic animal or geological formation of canyons and waterfalls, and added it to her own projects. Drawing, creating a character in the new game Mikaela had received from her brother Nathaniel, writing ideas in the safety of her little outdoor fort...No one else in school realized how much Willow had accomplished. All they knew was that she was _weird_. The trio scoffed at that view. Being different didn't make something weird. And Willow was cool- she drew better than any of them, painted, and had a mind drifted away from the world so much that she had amazing ideas to share with them from the places she imagined.

They all shared a similar enjoyment of science but their interests carried them in different directions. And Destinee's just happened to be the one that handled technology better so Lucy let her tinker.

Which they did. Until they were interrupted by the principal. And reality crashed down once more.

But the officers didn't listen to their pleas to help. And that hurt them all; being powerless to help Willow, wherever she was, in any way possible. The chief thanked them for their information and went on his way. The two officers followed. The three girls were left behind dejectedly.

"...you know..." Lucy spoke up slowly. The other two brought their reddened eyes her way. The first girl sniffled but flashed a little smile.

"They just that they didn't _need_ our help. They never said we _couldn't_ go help look."

* * *

Hop followed down the path the officers had gone down earlier. They'd come in that afternoon and told her to start a search party. There had been no sign of Willow Byers at her father's place and even if no evidence suggesting that she was in danger had been uncovered yet, the department was disturbed with a missing child case. Hop herself planned to go on the search party that night; the orange vest and flashlight had already been tossed in her car. It was just that until then...she was busy driving to her own search.

She parked off on the side of the road and stepped out into the still air. Callahan had been easy to ask. He offered his secretary the information they had received during their visit to the middle school.

Mirkwood. Or better translated as the junction road between Cornwallis and Kerley.

The forest was quiet. A bit hot for the normal chilly weather this time of year. Hop dug around the pocket in her jacket until she brought out a pair of pills; no need to worry about some sort of panic attack while out here alone. Then she started down the road. The skirt and jacket worn to work earlier had been discarded and replaced by bagging jeans and a backpack with her journaling notebooks.

The cloudless sky overhead lit the surrounding woods too brightly as she hiked along 'Mirkwood'. Nothing looked out of the ordinary for some time. Hop debated going back until she caught a glimpse of glinting metal.

Next moment and she was brushing leaves away from a bike. Small, meant for a young teen or older child. But in good condition. Good quality. Her eyes narrowed.

Around the area of the discarded bike was scraped bark and disrupted groundcover. There had been a crash. Obviously, if the girl had been hurt she hadn't bled majorly on the ground or died at this spot or else she would have heard about it from the police.

And the bike itself...something was bothering her. Hop unzipped her bag and brought a pencil and notebook into her hands. From the years when she was happily assuming she'd have a child reach this age, Hop knew that bikes of this quality weren't cheap. They were valued. Hell, she would compare them to Cadillacs in a kids' mind. It wouldn't have been left out here. Not unless Willow had been in a hurry.

Unease dropped into her stomach momentarily. Hop brought the pencil onto the paper and scratched out 'she was in a hurry.' Running away from, abandoning, a valued bike. To escape? To escape what?

* * *

"Lonni?"

Johanna tried to stay calm as her ears filtered in her father's words without permission. If she could shut every sound off, she would. If she could just be able to focus on one thing or think about her missing sister, without all the outside stimuli making her brain feel frantic, Johanna would.

"Kyle? Well this is John Byers. Lonni's ex-husband. This is an emergency and I need to speak with her-no not later, right now- HEY!"

She could hear her father slamming the phone against the receiver and fuming. Every time she felt like she had almost comprehended the situation with Willow, something external interrupted her mind and she was set back again. There was no more taking this. Johanna couldn't even finish her work on the missing persons poster she hadn't really come to grips with being real over through all this _noise_.

"Dad."

John turned from where he was seething in anger.

"Please, you have to calm down."

Her father nodded but the nods lasted far too long.

"I'm calm," he exhaled loudly, "I'm calm. If there's some asshole at your mother's place who won't behave and give me Lonni so I can find out WHERE MY MISSING DAUGHTER-"

The yell was cut off by John as he bit at his tongue before he moved to grab the phone again. It rang until the tone was all that answered the frantic father.

"Lonni some, some teenager, just hung up on me. I need you to call me back. Please, please, just call me back- I have to talk to you- I just-if don't call me back in the next hour I'll report you for not paying child support I swear to God I will and I'll make sure you rot in jail where you belong," his lip curled in distaste as he breathed again. Lonni would never answer to that. "Just...please. I need you to call me."

The pictures in Johanna's hands were still hovering over the poster like they had since her father had started talking. Her movements had frozen in limbo as her brain focused in on the words he was saying. Now, with the silence descended once more, Johanna stopped listening and moved her eyes once more. They glanced up out the window and-

"Dad."

John moved into the room. When he spoke to her it was with a much calmer tone.

"What?"

"It's her bike."

John burst outside; on his tail was a much more subdued Johanna. Walking up from where her car was, Jane Hopper was pulling Willow's bike towards the house. The man's breath came out broken.

"Is that-is it-"

Jane looked into his eyes as she stopped wheeling it over. The woman had a somber expression etched over her face. John found himself sighing. The sight of the bike without its owner felt like a shot.

"Where did you find it?" Johanna asked softly when she reached her father's side. Mousy hair was obscuring the teens face.

The woman bit her lip.

"I found it by the road. It wasn't far from your house."

It had been years since he had been in the war and needed to look for signs of a struggle or death. Still, John's mind began to come up with questions he would have asked in that time.

"Was it...just sitting?" his daughter asked.

Jane shook her head; her bobbed hair bounced from the action.

"It was laying in the brush a few feet from the road. Looked like a crash," she answered.

"Was there any blood?" John asked. Jane turned her attention from Johanna to Mr. Byers.

"No."

All three fell silent. There was a collective sigh from father and daughter. This discovery only added more worries to the equation.

"Thank you for bringing it back. If there's anything..." John trailed a bit, "-that you need in-"

"She got a key to the house?" Jane started. He opened and shut his mouth like a gasping fish at the sudden turn in conversation. Immediately he scolded himself for not realizing what the woman had: Willow could've come home last night.

"I-I checked," the man said, "She wasn't in her room."

"Never said you didn't," she cut his trailing words off and moved up to him. Wordlessly, Johanna took the bike and left the two. Jane stared up at John, their heads only inches apart. If she hadn't had a neutral expression, John would read her stare as a glare. "Can I?"

John blinked. "Can you...? Check the house?"

"Yes."

He stepped away.

"M-I suppose so. Here, just come with me," he rambled the instructions behind his back after he had turned and walked to the door again. Behind him, Jane stepped daintily over the house threshold. She inspected the room and moved to the hall. When they came to the back door, the woman froze up in the process of leaving for the outdoors. On the wall was a dent. Jane pushed the door shut and aligned the handle to the chipped paint.

"Someone threw this open. _Hard_. Was it always here?" she turned and asked John. That tone was all business. John found himself shifting a bit; the cops that came by earlier didn't press like this. His memory wasn't good enough to tell whether the dent was new or if it was old and they both were reaching for a connecting sign from it to Willow's disappearance.

"It might be. I'm not sure," he admitted. The woman nodded.

A strange sound made John jump. He was on edge since he had lost his little girl. Then he recognized the sound: whimpering.

Both stepped outside into the chilly air. Chester's dirty white fur answered the question on the noise's source. The dog was moving around agitatedly; he whimpered and barked at the shed.

"This normal?" Jane asked haltingly. She glanced his way. "I don't own dogs or anything so I don't-"

"It's normal for a hungry dog," John reassured. Even still, the barking and the shed it was directed at rattled his nerves.

The shed was old. The wood that it consisted of was grayed and rotting in some spots. Jane moved towards it and reached out slowly to open the door. The door creaked open; John grabbed it with a rough skinned hand and held it open as the woman stepped inside. As she looked over the equipment and junk in the shed, John mentally debated what to do and decided on stepping in as well.

The door shut and left the shed in darkness. The man reached over and flicked on the light. The dim yellow revealed Jane reaching for a small open box on the table. She lifted it to investigate and John recognize it as-

Oh God. No, no.

Ammo.

Maybe it had been him? Or Johanna? Maybe they'd forgotten to clean up a mess earlier. It didn't have to be Willow did it?

The woman had set the box aside and was fingering the...the... _empty_...mount.

"There's some prints in the dust her-"

The light above them flickered. She cut off and turned her head to stare up at it. John tried to ignore the electrical problem and continue.

"The gun should be there. I can't say for the door and the wall but the gu-"

The bulb suddenly shot up in brightness and cut out with a snap. Both cut off completely in the sudden darkness.

Because of their silence, the only other sound in the shed became audible.

Some sort of squelching.

Moving slowly, as if scared to make a sudden movement, John reached to the wall and flicked at the lightswitch. Nothing happened. The windows provided enough dim light for Jane to shuffle junk from a table and grab a lamp. She clicked it on and shone the yellow beam at him before moving it towards a corner of the shed.

The sound of dripping or squeezing or something indistinct but unnatural in a shed continued.

"Do you," John licked his lips, "hear that?"

Jane crept towards the pile in the corner and slowly crouched.

"I hear it too," her voice said back from the dim corner. Her hand reached out for the pile. It crept closer and closer but with wary distance and speed.

The disgusting noise persisted.

John found he was tensing- waiting on edge for Jane to touch the junk where the sound seemed to originate.

A sudden loud noise had both jumping. Heart rate spiked before John realized it was just Chester barking. Even with that realization, his breathing barely slowed. John reached behind him and scrabbled with the wood before tearing the door open. The light that poured in seemed to break the spell they had been under. Jane had jumped to a standing position when the dog had first barked and now seemed to be catching her breath. Those blue eyes were wide enough to look crazed; John wondered if he looked the same. An unspoken agreement passed through them and both left the shed. It barely registered that the bulb behind them had sparked to life again.

* * *

The night was a dark one. The search party members wore neon vests and held flashlights to fight the night. Hop had hers turned on and a coat hung open so that the shiny orange beneath it could be seen while the cold stayed away. It had been a good few hours since the unnerving event at the Byers' house. In hindsight, she couldn't even understand what had happened. Why she had been so consumed by the strange fear of some little sound. Even now, when the event felt, in some way, alien to her memory, Hop still felt unsettled.

Somewhere near the head of the group, the chief walked. Some other figure (it was too dark to distinguish who) trotted up to him. She could hear a fair bit of their exchange. Words like "She's a good student." "A great one, actually. I can't fathom her getting into any kind of trouble" convinced her even more that _something was up_. Things were not all right in Hawkins. Willow hadn't ditched school. She had crashed, left her valued bike, ran from her house so fast she had left a dent in the wall, and took a gun, which she loaded, from the shed in the backyard. Neither gun nor girl could be found.

The smaller figure introduced himself to the chief as a science teacher. Ratliff had made it impossible for Hop to enjoy science at all when she was young enough to be in school. But she had tried to learn it later; tried so hard because Sam loved stars and galaxies and planets other than the one he had stood on.

Hop shook her head and marched away from the spot to shake those thoughts.

* * *

The stone eyes glared mockingly at the little figurines opposing it. The knight. The dwarf. The witch.

Mikaela lay on the blankets of the little fort. It was a good place to escape from her overbearing father and underwhelming mother. It had been the last place Will had been with them. The night they hid down here to play dungeons and dragons. The place she was currently having a stare down with a two headed figurine.

And then, suddenly jumping up, Mikaela crawled from the fort and ran out the basement door. The Sinclair's lived near the Wheeler's- close enough to be neighbors. Mikaela ran until she came to a stop outside their front door and knocked. It took only a minute before Lucy pulled the door open.

"Hey," she smiled. The two old friends left the door behind and moved upstairs to Lucy's room. Mikaela found herself pacing.

"I'm worried about her," the girl admitted.

"Yeah," Lucy frowned, "This is crazy."

"Look- I was thinking. Last night, Will could've cast protection or fireball. But she didn't. She froze up."

"...and?" the other girl prompted.

"My point is- my point is, she could've played it safe or she could've fought. But she didn't. She was faced with danger and reacted with indecision."

The point was reaching. Both knew that. But at the same time...at the same time...

"Let's call Dusty."

* * *

Nat pulled up at the rendezvous point. In his bag were flash cards and notebooks. He would be studying them tonight.

_He would be._

And maybe he'd be picking up the girl he really liked. But they'd just study.

Getting out of the house had been a bit miserable. His dad didn't want any of them to leave. But Nat had seen his little sister running to the Sinclairs in the dark earlier. His mom was never going to stop either of them. And Nat was a well built young man. That helped convince his parents to not barricade him in the house for the evening. Good. He had made arrangements to meet Stephanie here at Dearborn and Maple. If he'd been locked up in the house, Nat would've been exasperated. It wasn't like there was anything dangerous out here. And even if there was, he could take care of himself much better than a little twelve year old girl could.

Someone rapped on the passenger side window. Nat grinned. A hand found the locks and flicked them off. Only a second later the door opened and there she was.

Stephanie Harrington.

Nat wouldn't have ever believed this day was coming. Everyone knew her type were the shallow men. She'd love 'em and leave 'em. Nat wasn't that sort of person. In truth, he had always hung out with Bart and the redhead was quite the nerd. Both had sworn off women at some point or other and then forgotten that promise when a crush would begin. Both were supportive of each other. And both were very much virgins. Nat had always assumed he would stay that way. When he found a girl and fell in love, it would be a very serious relationship. As far as the school, and thus Nat and Bart, knew Stephanie did not ever do serious relationships.

But this one...if he could call it a relationship...felt serious. Felt like more than just her messing around with him.

Maybe, just maybe, it felt like love.

Bart didn't know about this meeting. His best friend didn't know how seriously Nat had fallen for this girl. And how madly attracted he was to her.

But that wasn't going to be a problem, was it?

* * *

The doorbell rang as Bethany finished up some dishes. The chef stood back from the sink and ran soapy wet fingers through her cropped black hair. When she made her way to the door and swung it open, the culprit was revealed to be a middle aged blonde man. He smiled cheerfully.

"Are you miss Hammond?"

"Afraid so," the woman crossed tattooed arms, "And I'm afraid the shop's closed. How about tryin' again tomorrow?"

The man laughed and shook his head.

"You've misunderstood. Conner Fraizer," he extended a hand, "Social Services." Oh. Right. Beth ran two fingers over her tired eyes and tried to perk up. She was rightly exhausted after the day's events but she needed to be awake to handle this.

"Right, right. Sorry 'bout that. I didn't think you'd make it so fast with that drive," she admitted.

Fraizer stepped through the now open doorway.

"So," he peeked his head around and smiled again, "Where is the boy?"

"He's in the back. Here, I'll take you- just be careful. I didn't tell him because he seemed skittish; I didn't want to scare him off."

"Most children I work with usually are," Fraizer spoke from behind Beth as she led the way to the kitchen.

"Sorry again for how I reacted. It's just-well it's funny. Your voice sounded different acro-"

The silent pistol made little more than a pop. Bethany Hammond fell to the ground.

For the last time, the quiet boy had been watching her when she was unaware. Her murder did not go unwitnessed. Eleven's ice cream was forgotten as he ran from the kitchen. Sprinted for the back doors full of terror. He blew past obstacles; the jerking bodies of dying agents proved that. Their weapons were no match for broken necks and those had snapped as soon as Eleven had laid eyes on them.

He left the door behind him swinging. It didn't show a sign of him- he had fled into the woods untraceably.

* * *

"These are good," John ruffled his daughters hair, "Very good Johanna."

The teen said nothing; she was embarrassed. The posters she had finally finished were stacked on the table.

"Listen. I know I've been busy. I've been working and working and...I just feel like I don't really know what's going on with you."

His hand paused when he felt her shake.

"Baby? What's wrong?" John leaned down to get a better look at his daughters face. It was strained. She was grimacing in her fight against tears and her body shook with effort.

"Nothing," she denied. It was an obvious lie. Her father reached for her hand, paused, withdrew, and reached for it again.

"What is it?"

"I- I- last night...I should've...I should've been here- that shift I picked up...Willow was alone and-and-"

"It's not your fault," he promised. His big, rough, calloused hand squeezed her small one. Johanna turned away from him and sob without sound again.

"Listen-" John commanded gently. He cupped her face with his hands. "Willow...she's going to come home soon. I know it. Because-" a sudden conviction struck him. Something, somehow, had hit a chord. It was as if his younger daughter was here. As if she was standing in the very spot he was. "I feel her. In my heart, I feel her. She's close. She's close-"

It must've sounded crazy. Was he scaring Johanna away? John could barely focus. That conviction was still there. Still so palpable. "You believe me, right? You-" _feel that same way, that same presence_, went unasked.

Johanna sucked in a breath but nodded. The second she did, the blaring sound of a phone ringing made both jump.

"News..." the teen breathed. Her father shot up from the table and ran to the phone.

"Hello? Hello...?"

Similar to how he had felt in the shed earlier, John felt his body go on alert. Tense up. Across the phone came a low sound. A sound like...

Breathing.

"Lonni? Chief Renca?"

Johanna stood from the table. She approached slowly.

"Hello? Who is this?"

The teen began to approach faster. Now anxiety was evident.

The breathing continued. It rasped across the line but it still could be heard. It was like-

John paled. Dizziness floated through his body before he reached for the wall to brace himself.

It was a child breathing. It was _his child_ breathing.

"Willow? Will!"

"What?" Johanna gasped. She reached for his arms and gripped them; John still did not loosen his steel hold on the phone.

"Are you safe? Talk to me! Willow!"

It crept into hearing slowly. The hair on his arms rose before his mind had fully begun to comprehend the new sound. A low, gradually rising, growl. A guttural, animalistic sound. And chirping. Noise rising and falling and _overall so completely inhuman_.

"WHO IS THIS?" John yelled. He demanded answers the growls did not offer.

"Dad?" Johanna matched his volume with her own shriek. "Dad!"

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HER? WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"

With head spinning speed, the noise cut out. There was silence.

The volume returned again with raging intensity. It shrieked and John let out a roar of pain and shock both. He jerked away from the phone and looked down at his seared hand.

Johanna snagged the phone as it swung on its wire.

"Who? Who IS THIS?" the teen screamed in confusion and helpless anger. The dead phone gave no reply.

"Dad?" she spun around to her father, "Dad who was it?"

John was only staring at the fried device with dread.

Willow's breathing. Something else's breaths.

It was unbefitting of a respected man like him. But John Byers slumped to the floor and shook.

* * *

"Guys," Destinee muttered again, "I think we should head back."

"You want to do that, go ahead," Lucy's voice shot back. She was a few feet ahead of the curly haired girl. Marching determinately despite the more fearful walking Destinee and Mikaela were doing.

"No, really. Did you ever stop to think Willow went missing because, you know, she ran into someone bad? And now we're going to the place where she was last seen, and we don't even have weapons or anything-"

"Shut up," Lucy grumbled, trying not to falter in her before-so-confident steps.

"...maybe," Mikaela admitted. The cold rain was getting to her and she shivered. The gloomy atmosphere didn't mix well with Destinee's words.

"I'm just being realistic, Lucy-"

"Shut up," Mikaela repeated Lucy's earlier words, though for a very different reason. Her fearful senses were heightened- and they had heard the crunch of branches.

"I'm just saying, does this really seem like the smart thing to-"

"Shut up!" the tallest girl repeated. She strained to listen. The woods had turned on her. Once nothing more than trees, it now became oppressive and dangerous and full of hungry bears and such creatures.

"...you guys hear that?"

They did.

The girls shone their lights out into the woods. Foliage rustled but every time they swung their lights towards the noises they failed to see anything.

Something moved _behind them_.

None of them had ever moved as fast as they did when they spun around while simultaneously backpedaling. All three lights hit the little figure standing, dripping wet, in nothing but a green tee shirt. The new child held gazes with the three shocked girls.

Overhead, lightning flickered and thunder followed.

* * *

_AN-In case it's not clear, here is the character cast-_

_Eleven-Eleven (If anyone was the hardest to write, it was him...it was hard trying to picture an Eleven who wasn't played by Millie Bobby Brown being a little bald psychic girl)_

_The party:_  
_Mike Wheeler - Mikaela Wheeler_  
_Will Byers - Willow 'Will' Byers_  
_Dustin Henderson - Destinee 'Dusty' Henderson_  
_Lucas Sinclair - Lucy Sinclair_

_The Adults:_  
_Jim Hopper - Jane 'Hop' Hopper (I went with Jane instead of a more similar name like Jenni because of the shoutout to the real Jane Hopper [Eleven])_  
_Joyce Byers - John Byers (full name may or may not be Jonathan in yet another shoutout to canon)_  
_Karen Wheeler- Kade Wheeler_  
_Ted Wheeler - Theodora 'Dora' Wheeler (...I apologize for the monstrosity of Mom!Ted)_  
_Lonnie Byers - Lonni Byers_  
_Diane Hopper - Dan_  
_Bill - Billeigh_  
_Terry Ives - Terry Ives_

_The Teens:_  
_Nancy Wheeler - Nathaniel 'Nat' Wheeler (as a shoutout to Nancy's actress Natalie Dryers)_  
_Jonathan Byers - Johanna Byers_  
_Steve Harrington - Stephanie Harrington_  
_Barb Holland - Bart Holland_

_The Hawkins Kids:_  
_Erica Sinclair - Eric Sinclair_  
_Troy Walsh - Tracy Walsh_  
_James Dante - Jenni Dante_

_Department of Energy:_  
_Martin Brenner - Marta Brenner_  
_Connie Fraizer - Conner Fraizer_

_Some of the similarities between canon are intentional- example: Destinee sharing Dustin's disorder. Cleidocranial dysplasia was given to Dustin because Gaten Matazzo has cleidocranial dysplasia; but at this point it is so much of his character that it Destinee is sharing it too._  
_(Also, IceCreamRaven has a mycast for this 'verse and the faceclaim for Destinee chosen is Milly Shapiro who also has Cleidocranial dysplasia)_  
_Title is inspired by the Alan Parsons Project song Some Other Place. Chapter titles will follow Season 1 episode titles._  
_Updates will be sporadic- I'll make a goal to finish this before the end of the year, but I can't promise any sort of scheduled updates._

_Last off- thank you for your time! If you noticed any grammar/spelling errors, please point them out so I can correct them :)_


	2. The Weirdo on Maple Street

Willow's family continues searching for her while Jane Hopper finds herself looking into a separate Hawkins crime. The missing girl's friends discover that the strange boy they found knows their friend is 'hiding' somewhere. Meanwhile, a group of teens throw a party alone in the woods near Mirkwood.

_AN- __Warnings for stalking, talk of suicide, and lots of rehashed canon dialogue_  
_It is at this point in which I realize how much of the thematic atmosphere in the DND board+El scene was from the music ("The Upside Down")_

* * *

Tap tap tap tap.

Hop's pen hit her desk with repetitive speed. From her position it was impossible to hear the details of the conversation happening in the chief's office. The paperwork she should be doing was untouched a few inches from where her pen was clicking up and down. She was irritated. The raised voices made her believe that John was telling Forest something important. But, between the walls and the door, she couldn't hear what it was.

The tapping continued on. At his desk, officer Powell dropped his pencil to lift both hands to his head and groan at the incessant noise. The culprit barely noticed his reaction, let alone paused her own.

Like previously, the door slammed open when John left the room. The man stopped midway to the exit and stared at Hop. For a moment, his mouth opened as if to speak to her as well as Forest. To her disappointment, John looked down and moved away into the street outside.

For the first time in a half hour, the pen stopped tapping against the desk. The sudden break sent the atmosphere reeling. The pen hovered in the air, pinched between steely fingers, before it was set aside. Yesterday had thrown her off. She wasn't supposed to get this involved. She certainly wasn't supposed to feel disappointment in being held outside the information loop so vital to this case.

Regardless, Hop wanted answers. She wanted to find out where the missing kid was. If the kid was even alive. If there was a culprit responsible for this.

Why this case had her so on edge.

Hop shoved the questions away and got to her job for the first time that morning. A few minutes into filing papers and she was sent right back into the lull of her job. The boredom and pointlessness that crept close every day for the last five years.

A call came in. Hop reached over on instinct and took it. The report was typed by her free hand as the words professionally sunk over her. It wasn't until the call was done and she was ripping the paper free that it soaked in. Four words kept staring up at her and each one processed separately.

_Death._

That wasn't too unusual, not even in Hawkins. The older population was large enough that there was the occasional death mourned. Naturally caused, and grieved, deaths.

_Suicide._

That was bizarre. She didn't mean to be insensitive when thinking it, but it took Hop some time to comprehend that word being used in the context of her job. Of Hawkins. Suicide just wasn't something she saw here. A Hawkins call was someone's hair attacked by birds- not suicide. That was a big city event. It-it just didn't happen out here. Like missing children didn't.

_Beth's Diner._

Hop groaned with disbelief and loss simultaneously.

* * *

When the door shut, Mikaela started to regret letting her friends leave. Now it was just her dripping on the basement floor with a stranger. A strange _boy_.

Who just...stood there. Wearing some of her moms' sweats that lay on top of the hamper downstairs in easy targeting range for the searching children. The sopping green shirt he had been wearing outside was leaking water on the tiles of the bathroom. She had shoved him in there after he had, as put in Dusty's eloquent prose, "tried to get naked." The trio of girls had not reacted well. But there hadn't been much choice at the time. The basement door was unlocked and the front would have been immediately assaulted by Mr. Wheeler. If he had found his daughter and her friends soaking wet from rain they weren't supposed to have been in after they had found a kid in the woods that they were currently banned from exploring, let alone at _night_, he would have…Well, it wouldn't have been pretty. And they couldn't just be banned from looking for Will. Mikaela _couldn't_. She just couldn't; the idea of standing to the side while Will was lost somewhere ate at her.

"Hey-" the girl spoke quickly and cast her glance to the other sole occupant of the basement. He just stood there and stared at her. Through her. Big soft eyes that barely blinked; even if this kid was weird and didn't say much more than a word or two, Mikaela decided she could still like those eyes.

"Um."

He still hadn't blinked. Just stood there in her moms sweats and waited for her to elaborate. Mikaela grinned nervously.

"I never asked your name, did I?" she finished stalling. The boy blinked once, long and slow. There was no accompanying nod and word.

"Well. Me-my name is Mikaela," said girl tried with a smile. For another moment there was a silence. At least it didn't feel awkward. There was nervousness at play to be sure. She had felt nervous since her friends had grudgingly snuck away. Dusty would be under constant watch if she was caught outside and the Sinclairs likely would be unhappy to learn Lucy had decided on a late night stroll.

"Look. Um, just listen and I-I'll tell you the plan. So in the morning," Mikaela paused a second and then pointed at the dark window, "When it gets bright outside?"

The eyes offered no clear reply so she went ahead and hoped he understood.

"This probably sounds a little weird but I'll need you to go outside."

That did visibly register. The little boy flinched. Immediately she waved her hands.

"No, no, not right now. Don't worry. Okay?" Her smile flickered back and forth as she tried to read him. Tried to show him it was alright, that she hadn't meant for him to return to the dark and the rain. "Tomorrow. In the morning, remember?" His gaze kept shooting at the dark window but he tried to imitate her smile; the imitation was weak but it was still a smile. The little sight of uneven teeth helped chip away at her nervousness about the silent stranger.

"So tomorrow-" she emphasized again, "could you go outside? Walk to the front door and ring the bell? My dad will know what to do. We just have to pretend we've never met. But-but that's okay! We'll just meet again. And dad, he'll call and we'll work out-"

"No."

That was the second time he had said it that night. It was not only the most common word spoken so far but also the only one. Both times it threw her for a loop. No to privacy? No to getting home?

"No?"

"No."

"You don't want help?" Mikaela couldn't understand. The boy looked down a second before he shook his head minutely.

"...are you...are you in trouble?"

Maybe the others were right. Maybe he was crazy. Maybe he was _dangerous_. Maybe they had left her alone with a dangerous stranger.

He looked aside again. Guiltily. And Mikaela found she couldn't be too scared of him. Not when he was so obviously scared himself.

"With who?" she prompted much quieter. "Who are you in trouble with? A parent or family or...who?"

The answer did not come immediately. First there was that guilty look away, the scared expression that manifested in little blinks and avoided eye contact.

"...bad." It was the first other word he'd said that night other than 'no'.

"What?" the girl wondered aloud, "Bad? Bad people?"

Even with her overbearing father, Mikaela had seen that the world had 'bad people'. Bad parents. Parents that hurt their kids. Bad strangers. People that hurt kids or adults they didn't even know.

The boy nodded again. It was a stronger nod than his others had been.

"Do the bad people want to hurt you?" Mikaela prompted. Her eyebrows were furrowed in worry.

His hand lifted slowly: deliberately. It formed into a shape; two fingers extended while the others were pulled in- a finger gun. The 'gun' was brought to his blank face. It pointed at his temple and then moved into the air to point at her.

Bad people.

The boy was in real danger. Just like Will might be.

"Un-ders-tand?" he emphasized every section of the word. The girl nodded with wide eyes.

"Yeah. Yeah."

When quiet descended on them again, Mikaela shifted uncomfortably where she stood. She needed to go to bed but, unlike minutes before when she wanted so badly to get away from the strangers presence, she wasn't happy leaving the boy down here alone so soon. Moving foot to foot awkwardly in place and rubbing at her own shirt, Mikaela's eyes fell down to the boys arm.

"Is that real?"

He blinked again. This time she was pretty sure it was out of confusion rather than an answer.

"The tattoo," she pointed at it, "I've never seen a kid with one before. It's cool-" Mikaela started in quick effort to reassure him. "What's it mean? The number?"

The boy lifted his wrist just slightly to stare down at the ink. Then the hand lifted to point gently at himself.

"What?" she cocked her head in confusion, "You?"

His lips moved wordlessly a few times before he spoke: "Eleven." At the word he pushed at himself further.

"Eleven. That's...that's your name?"

Since he didn't respond in the negative, Mikaela took his silence for a yes.

"Alright. Well. Um. I have to get to bed," she shuffled back a few steps. Eleven shuffled forward the same distance. The shaved child looked lost; Mikaela pointed at the pillow fort that hid her DnD games. "No, no, you can sleep in there. Remember? And the bad men-the bad men won't find you in there. Okay?"

Still looking lost, he stepped slightly back towards it. All she could offer him was a frown and shrug.

"Sorry. I have to go to my own bed. I can't stay down here with you and you don't want to go upstairs to see my parents."

Even as he moved close enough to touch the blankets, she still hadn't proceeded up the stairs.

"Well," Mikaela repeated again and internally scolded herself on her absolute fumbling of eloquent language tonight. "Stay safe down here. G'night Eleven."

The boy was facing the blanket he was touching but spoke up quietly.

"G'night Mik-ae-la."

"Yeah," she flashed a grin, "Yeah, the same to you."

* * *

"When alpha particles go through gold foil they become-"

"Unoccupied space."

Bart grinned and pulled the next card to the front. No matter his worries on his best friends new social life, Nat was still sharp as ever.

"A molecule that-"

The tall boy's cards were torn from his hand suddenly. The left side of his thigh was slapped uncomfortably high just seconds after. The redhead spun around to find the culprit(s) with a weak, "hey!". After making a 180 and adjusting his glasses, Bart could see who now held the flashcards. He was another redhead teen but one whose face was more of a 'household name' among Hawkins High School. The other guy offered a smirk and looked with boredom down at the cards in his tanned hands. At his side was a short brunette with a smirk and a face of freckles. Bart withheld a groan. Great. Carl and Tammy H. This was the consequence of Nat's new girlfriend.

Speaking of her..

"I think you've studied those enough," Stephanie declared with a grin of her own. She grabbed the cards from Carl's hands and cast them a passing glance.

"Steph-" Nat gave the girl a disappointed expression. It felt like it was trying to be a kicked puppy and a disapproving mother all in one; Bart couldn't continue to look at it and moved his gaze away to the opposite wall.

"I keep telling you-" the girl straightened up and patted the cards disinterestedly, "-you got this."

Of course he did. As long as Nat didn't get distracted, this chemistry test would be struggled with but won over by both of them. If he did get distracted...Bart had never done better than Nat at a science test before but, judging by his friends social life behavior, this year he just might.

"Now!" Stephanie clapped once and her grin grew, "On to more pressing matters. My dad's left town for a conference with my mom since, you know, she doesn't trust him-"

"Good call," Tammy smirked and the taller girl continued as if the interruption hadn't happened.

"-so...are you in?"

Nat looked from Tammy to Carl to Stephanie. His response came slowly.

"In...for?"

At the prompting, Carl snapped the bubble from his gum and spoke up with slow emphasis reminiscent of speaking to a toddler.

"No parents? Big house?"

Bart looked back at Nat in time to see his dawning expression. But Nat wouldn't accept this invitation to party with so many tests so soon. Would he?

"A party? Really?" The brunette boy shook his head and chuckled in disbelief. Stephanie nodded and that grin grew, however impossibly, even wider. Her eyes had yet to move from Nat to her friends or Bart.

"Ding ding ding," Carl flicked his fingers and Tammy grinned as well.

Come on Nat. _Come on._

"It's...Tuesday," he replied and bit his lower lip. "I hav-"

"It's Tuesday-" Tammy interrupted with a grimace. She repeated the words and looked up at Stephanie as she mocked her new boyfriend. "Oh m-"

"Come'n," Stephanie interrupted. Her grin was gone and her voice lowered to a more soothing reassuring tone. "It'll be lowkey. Just us."

Us meaning the four of them. Why hadn't he just walked off yet? The circle was obvious and he was locked a foot or so behind it as he stood behind Nat.

"No worries. What'd you say? You in? Or out or?"

The stalling answer his best friend had was never given. Carl had turned his short attention from Stephanie's reassurances to stare down the hall, leaving them only the view of a sharp profile and cropped hair.

"Ugh," he interrupted, "look."

All five turned to look as one. There at the bulletin board of the hall was another student. The Byers girl, Johanna, bundled up in a jean jacket and face obscured by messy haired.

"God, that's depressing," Stephanie spoke up, either meaning the girl herself or the poster of the missing kid Johanna was pinning up. Bart couldn't tell which; but he was ready to assume the worst. He was willing to admit that. This was hard; letting go of his friend was hard. Watching Nat branch out, find himself new friends that Bart detested, seeing him grow into something else; inevitable. And miserable for him. Because he hadn't started on that sort of change. He pretended that he had once Nat had begun but Bart hadn't yet; he just wanted things to remain as they were. Him and Nat. Conquering the world one school subject or arcade game at a time.

Nathaniel began a few hating steps that grew in confidence as he went towards Johanna. Bart stared after him. Nat's departing back was going to be something he was going to have to get used to seeing; might as well start now.

* * *

The hands pinning the poster up were shaking. The teen didn't seem to notice he had gotten so close. She just continued to hold the posters up with one hand as she pinned one to the bulletin board with the other hand.

"Hey."

Johanna jolted at the word and moved from the board and the black and white picture of her little sister in order to face him Nathaniel found himself looking at the little handmade poster instead of the girl's face.

"Oh. H-hey," she mirrored. It was disconcerting to him how she didn't blink as she stared him down.

"I just…" The little picture stared right back at him; Willow Byers, his younger sister's best friend. All bowl cut and big teeth in a childish smile. It was hard to imagine the kid being missing. He couldn't even start to imagine how that felt for the Byers family. "I wanted to say-" Nat licked his lips nervously and moved to look at Johanna instead of the missing girl's picture, "I'm sorry. About everything."

Johanna didn't blink but she did stare away from Nat to the teens beyond the hall. Nat glanced back as well. There Bart was looking down at his feet uncomfortably while Stephanie looked at the opposite wall with just as much discomfort. Carl was leaning against the wall and giving them a bored glance while his girlfriend lifted her hand in a split second wave when she saw the two of them staring.

"...Everyone's...thinking about you," Nat continued. He really did want to reassure the girl but the words were so hard to find; trying to decide on the spot what was best thing to say was difficult and Nat worried he wasn't coming across as genuinely concerned. How could he? If the positions were reversed and it was his sister missing what would he want a stranger in the school hall to say? What was the best thing to say to truly get the point across that he was emphasizing?

"It sucks."

Well, he could have done worse.

Johanna's lips were a tight line but at least she didn't look angry at his statement. Now what? Nat had already shoved his foot in his mouth but he couldn't just leave. The little photo of Willow drew his gaze again.

"...I'm sure she's fine. She's a smart kid."

"Yeah." Their eyes avoided contact like it was a dance. Nat opened his mouth to start again-

The school bell rang and jolted both of them. It was as good a conversation finisher as anything. Saved by the bell- Nat hoped his grimace had stayed internal; he didn't want the girl to think he was cringing at her when he was actually cringing at himself and his failed attempt at eloquent empathy.

"Th-I've got to go," Nat pointed over his shoulder and shuffled back a few steps. "Chem test." He gave a stifled chuckle and Johanna shared it just as awkwardly.

"Yeah. Yeah." The girl leaned one arm against the wall and had to shuffle to keep hold of the extra posters.

"Good luck!" he finished and flashed a thumbs up. That was probably tasteless. Stupid, stupid- once again, Nat hoped the others couldn't see how he was beating himself up.

The quiet thanks was barely heard but it drifted after him as he marched down the hall. And damned if it didn't get his steps to bounce a bit more; apparently he hadn't messed that up too phenomenally- the thanks sounded very genuine.

Stephanie linked arms with him the moment he reached them again. Neither said a thing about what had just occurred as the entourage of five moved down the hall. As they neared his chemistry, Nat couldn't help but smirk down at the other arm.

"You need to let go," he tried in vain to unlock the connected arms, "You'll be late for your class, Steph."

"I'll be fine," she brushed him off. Her face turned up to his with that confident but humored expression of hers. "Being late never hurt any one."

"Steph!" Nat pushed, "It'll hurt your grade!"

"Like I said. Never hurt any one." No matter how much he wanted to protest such a disregard for grades, Nat couldn't help his own smirk. Stephanie's grins were contagious; they always were. So he caved and let her escort him and Bart all the way to their chemistry room even if it meant she'd have to walk across school to get to her morning class late.

When they bid goodbyes, Nat hardly noticed they still had company. It was just Stephanie smiling up at him, giving him flirty remarks and lidded eyes, and Nat forgot that Tammy and Carl and his best friend were even in the hall with them.

"Don't forget, party boy," Stephanie slapped his side when they pulled away from their goodbye, "Tonight. Don't skip out! It'll be fun."

And Nat believed her.

* * *

The diner was surrounded by white and red police barricades but there was only one police car outside it. The chief had already gone in earlier in the day while she was still on shift at the station. Now the paramedics were gone from the scene and every cop but Callahan as well. The only other car parked outside the crime scene was her own civilian truck with chipped sienna paint.

Hop leaned under the tape and walked up to the doors. The moment she pushed them open the stench of death assaulted her.

Callahan was talking in his radio as she walked in. There was blood on a table and flies still in the air. They buzzed around incessantly and Hop was forced to wave a few away. For a few minutes she stood looking at the table before she finally moved towards the kitchen. It was a mess but it always was. She knew that kitchen was chaotic when Beth worked in it from all the times she visited the diner. The mess didn't necessarily mean a thing.

When she moved back towards the table again, Callahan was clipping his radio back to his belt.

"Suicide?" Hop asked, not looking away from the table and floor.

"Why are you here?" the officer asked. His voice always sounded perpetually confused and it irritated Hop more now than it ever did before.

"Just looking around." The woman took a few steps towards the door and didn't stop her gaze from flickering over every tile. "'Felt like I ought to. Beth was a friend."

A friendly hand slapped on her shoulder. Hop finally looked up from her scanning to stare at the appendage.

"And that's why you shouldn't be here," Callahan said, "Too personal."

If she was an officer too, he wouldn't dismiss her like that. If she was a higher rank than him, and she knew it wouldn't be hard to accomplish that provided her superior had any sense of rationality when handing out ranks, he wouldn't dare.

"Hm. That where it happened?"

The police officer followed her pointed finger to the bloody table. His face turned up in a grimace. Flies continued to buzz around the now coagulated blood.

"Yeah."

Really. Then why could she still see the rusty colored traces of wiped up blood on the floor tiles feet away from the apparent suicide location?

* * *

It was raining and the darkness caused an illusion of the time being later than it was. John shook out his jacket under the shelter of the house's overhang. The place was a dump. But he was well enough aware his own house was as well.

The door opened too suddenly under his knocking fist. John felt his heart jolt at the suddenness and struggled to ignore it as he stared down the stranger. The kids' hair was ratty and his skinny frame was on full display as his only clothes were a pair of black pants.

"Yeah? Can I help you?"

Recovered from the brief jolt, John spoke up. Asked for Lonni. The teenager rolled his eyes. The movement revealed smoking wrinkles, so maybe this Kyle wasn't as young as John wanted to think of him as.

Then Kyle was moved aside and a familiar face replaced his.

Lonni.

Somehow, just somehow, John managed. He managed not to get too angry. He managed not to blow up. Even as Lonni laughed at him and mocked when he looked in every square in of the house and property.

"I told you and the cops," the woman leaned, hands on hips, watching his search come to an end. "She's not here."

The rain fell freely on both of them as they stood in the small backyard. John took a deep breath.

"Why didn't you call me back?"

He waited. He waited and waited for that call back and when one finally came-

"You think I really want to talk to you?" Lonni dismissed, "You wouldn't believe me; you'd just blow up in my face across a phone. No thank you."

Judging by how close he was to blowing up in her face right now, she may not have been completely off point.

"Besides, kid wasn't ever any good at taking care of herself. You still let her bike around unsupervised? She prob'ly got lost somewhere."

His nails were grinding into his fisted palm.

"You really think-of all the-do you-"

"The cops'll find her," Lonni shut John off.

The sounds of buses and blaring horns and the construction a few lots over did nothing to soothe his rising irritation and worry over Willow. He had known she wasn't here- wasn't that what he had told Chief Renca the day this all started? But the call had left him unsettled. Very, very unsettled- and in its aftermath John understood why the police had been so fast to hope it was Lonni. That the ex-wife had the kid. Because the alternative was deep rasping breathing, growls, burnt phones…

"Shouldn't have stayed in that shithole anyways," Lonni shook her head and scoffed, "Kid wouldn't have gotten lost out here in the city. Not too late. You really should all move out here. People are more real here."

At the very least, these frustrating words were distracting him from the anxiety that remained over the remembrance of the strange phone call.

"And I'd get to see Johanna more. Y-"

John scoffed. His ex wife frowned.

"What? Think I don't want to?"

"Don't play this game with me," John moved from the rain to the lowroofed house.

"You know that's all you talking," Lonni's voice followed him as he ducked through the doorway into the slender hall. "That's not Johanna's words saying she doesn't want her mom. Does she even know you're here?"

For the first time, her words cut straight through him and left him cold. No. No she didn't. Because he had headed here after talking with Renca this morning about the phone call. Because she had seen Johanna last that morning at breakfast as the girl was reassuring him that she would take care of the posters.

Lonni's mocking comment on 'real fine parenting' chased him out of the front door. When he slammed the door of his car shut, John was forced to sit and breath shakily before he tried to drive. In the doorway, the bare chested boyfriend right behind her, Lonni looked down on the windshield. Her sneer followed him as John finally started up the car and tore from the driveway.

* * *

"Eleven?"

Mikaela peeked out from the staircase. It had been a bit of a toss up, trying to decide whether to stay home or go to school. But school wouldn't feel right anyways; Will's empty seat would bother her too much to focus. And Eleven shouldn't be stuck in the cramped fort when the house was empty for them to tour.

The blankets ruffled and then the boy's head peeked out. Mikaela offered a brief grin.

"Hi."

He pulled himself out of the fort and stood up in the rumbled black sweats from yesterday. An even briefer smile than hers tugged his mouth up and then back again.

"So…" Mikaela picked at the corner of her striped sweater, "Want a tour of my house?"

The two children had gone up from the basement and she led them into the kitchen. Her tour had consisted of all talking on her part but that wasn't dissimilar to how their 'conversations' last night had gone.

"Here, I'll grab you some breakfast-" the freezer was opened and Mikaela stuck her head in to scan for something tasty. A second later she had grabbed the open container of Eggos and searched the fridge. "You thirsty?" Predictably there wasn't an answer. "We've got OJ, milk…"

Mikaela turned from her hunt and saw Eleven in the living room looking over the TV. The waffles were dumped on the table for the moment and she followed the boy, explaining what the living room was for, talking with pride about her 22" TV, and, unsurprisingly, dropping each subject when Eleven would walk off to look at something else.

He found the family pictures on the mantle and Mikaela introduced each family member. Then he was off again while she was in the middle of questioning him on his own family, which she still had suspicions of being 'bad people', to investigate her mom's La-Z-Boy.

After that bit of fun, Mikaela led them back to the kitchen and toasted him a waffle. She had already eaten before school but hadn't made anything for her hidden guest yet. Eleven devoured the food like he was starving; Mikaela hadn't even seen her mom or Nat eat with that much gusto.

"So," she picked at the tablecloth absently. Eleven paused briefly in his bites before returning to the eggo. "I was thinking last night. About your name."

The waffle disappeared in one last bite. He stared at her over the plastic cup as he drank the apple juice Mikaela had given him; accepting the stare as prompting, she continued on.

"Well, me and my friends- you met two of them yesterday, remember? That was Lucy and Dusty. We have nicknames."

The glass was set down but he hadn't moved away from the table, and so the conversation, even if he wasn't speaking.

"Like Dusty, that's not really her name," Mikaela shuffled in her seat, "Her name is actually Destinee but we shorten it to Dusty. And my friend Will, she's actually Willow but I call her Will for short. And I'm-"

"Mik-ae-la?" he supplied softly. She gave an enthusiastic nod.

"Yeah! And if that's too long you can call me Miki for short. See? It's a nickname. So I was thinking...well-"

Eleven just kept his attention on her while she shifted, and stiffened, and her voice changed pitches. It was her evidence that he was invested in the conversation.

"We could give you one to- like-like Even, like the name Evan, which is what yours is if you cut the 'El' part out…" She drifted off a bit. Eleven gave a long slow blink. Mikaela wiggled in her seat nervously.

"So. Do you-what do you think? Do you like it or…"

"Miki."

"Yeah?" Mikaela stopped rambling at his pronunciation of her name. The little boy's mouth was quirked up just a bit again.

"Yes."

After all the 'no's' she had heard from him yesterday, the acceptance of her nickname took a few seconds to compute. And then Mikaela smiled widely.

"'Aight Even," she said, "Alright."

Another comfortable still descended. Even broke it as he turned his head back to the living room. Slowly, the boy stood up and walked back over to the row of pictures. His hands lifted down one and Mikaela walked over to see what it was.

"Oh yeah. See? Those are my friends and I. You met L-"

His finger lifted with deliberation and set itself down in a point on one particular girl in the photo. The action was silent but to Mikaela it felt loud. Confusing. Exciting.

It was Will.

* * *

The stereo played an upbeat song. Even in an empty house, Stephanie had her door shut as she blasted the music. As her fingers slid through a strand of recently combed hair, she hummed to the song. The comb and blower returned for a moment and then were set aside as Stephanie leaned back to look at herself.

Hair? Perfect.

Back towards the mirror she leaned. On her desk lay some of the makeup she hardly ever wore but had dragged out for the night. A little eyeshadow, a little blush- common enough. This time powder was placed all over her face.

_"...old records of the shelf…"_

The quiet singing didn't move her head enough to disrupt the activity as Stephanie brushed on the eyeshadows of the day. A light blue. A warm gray. Nat liked blues; he had already told her in one random Q&A session that it was his favorite color. He wore quite a lot of grays or gray toned clothes.

_"...listen to 'em by myself…"_

On went the eye liner, done subtly in effort to keep its rarely-seen presence from her friends attention, the mascara, the creme that rid the dark circles from under her eyes.

_"...you'll never get me on the floor…"_

Her hummed singing broke off as she was forced to only bob internally to the music; lipstick required more focus and less movement. Stephanie had raided a few from her moms empty room and dropped them in the pile of her own barely used sticks. Some color to make her eyes look striking? A fun dash of blush? Sign her up. But lipstick wasn't her forte. Some could pull it off; a few years back when Tammy and her had started using makeup Stephanie noticed pretty quickly how lipstick made her best friends lips pop. Tonight was special though.

Stephanie ended up drawing on a light color and glossing it over with Madeline's Kissing Potion. There was no way she wouldn't end up taking advantage of that name by the nights end. She hoped.

She hoped Nat would feel the same way. The other two didn't know that. So far she was keeping it that way. Otherwise she'd pretty up with Tammy in the room while Carl could make what snide comments he desired to in the corner. If this was like any other boy they would be here getting ready with her. She certainly wouldn't be alone singing along to Bob Seger and wouldn't be caught dead humming to the slow romantic tunes that came on occasionally.

With a resounding 'pop' as she smacked her lightly colored lips, Stephanie stepped back from the desk. As the last remaining repetition of 'old time rock and roll' played out, she gave herself a long look. 'Lowkey' she had told Nat- so it was that standard she tried to fit into while also looking as tantalizing as she could. Not to seduce him; that was the part her friends wouldn't be able to understand. She wasn't dressing up in his favored colors to make him easy to play but to...Stephanie wasn't even sure how to explain it to herself. To show she noticed what he'd told her? To look a bit more like someone like him? That wasn't it. But it was close enough. She wasn't doing it to be _noticed_. She was doing it to show _she_ noticed.

And she had never noticed before.

So there she was; Stephanie Harrington, the most popular bitch in school. Listening to what was now a slow jazzy and wonderfully mood fitting sappy song play and staring herself down in the mirror with a nervous but satisfied expression. Brown hair tousled and poofed to perfection. Green sweater clinging and v necked but still surprisingly casual. Dark pants tight and stylish and flared at the bottom so that they almost hid her heeled boots. Lowkey enough. Tammy and Carl wouldn't notice too fast just how much care-staking effort she had put into something as silly and shallow as appearance tonight.

The doorbell rang only a second before someone pounded on the wood. It was only five so it wasn't Nat yet. No way would her parents be home so soon. That left only one option. Stephanie flipped her radio off and shoved her makeup into a handbag that promptly was stuffed into the bathroom without care. Then, with grace only years of practice in heels could offer, she sped down the stairs and threw the locks aside for her friends.

Carl had his arm slung over Tammy. Both were bundled in sweaters of their own. Carl had combed his hair but not done much more than that. The smell of cologne was strong enough to reveal he had put effort into perfuming up for the night. His girlfriend had styled up her dark mullet and put jewelry in but hadn't touched up on makeup like Stephanie had. Tammy looked at her critically. She noticed the extra cosmetics, the unusual effort.

But she didn't make a comment on it as she and Carl pushed their way in. With luck, neither would tonight. Stephanie didn't want to hear them start questioning if her attachment to Nat went beyond mere attraction.

* * *

The others didn't believe Miki. Not at first. They talked. They talked very fast. Some got loud. Both were frantic. Both didn't want him there.

He (Eleven. Even. That was his name now) didn't want to scare them off. But the one had tried to go for the door. She had tried to go tell Miki's papa. Even couldn't let her. That would put Miki in danger. It would put them all in danger. One moment they would be walking and talking and the next one of his mama's people would shoot a hole through their heads.

So he kept her from walking out of the room. And then all three had turned to him with different expressions of disbelief.

All he had done was shut the door. But here they were looking so scared or awed because Even had never moved from the bed to do it.

* * *

"Ready?"

Judging by how he couldn't stop shifting back and forth on his toes, no. He was not.

"Bart. Calm down."

The redhead shook his head to rid it of its anxious stupor.

"I'm chill. I'm chill." Nat looked up at him and shook his head a little. He didn't buy it but judging by the smile on his face, Nat didn't think the fear was crippling. It was. Bart's mantra didn't stop it. The fear of the popular teens. The fear of social parties.

The fear of abandonment.

Nat reached over and rung the doorbell. Music blasted from inside the house from somewhere beyond those warm inviting yellow windows. Still audible over the stereo was the clicking of heels getting louder and louder.

The door opened and there Stephanie Harrington stood; one arm slung against the door in a manner that let her lean against one hip suavely.

"Hello boys."

At her purr, Nat turned to him and grinned with excited and mischievous nervousness. There was such enthusiasm evident in it- an adventurer braving out into a treasure trove he had just discovered, regardless of the danger. Bart really did wish he could return it.

* * *

"Johanna?"

His first steps into the house were not met with any greeting. After the exhausting day, John tried not to worry over where his oldest was. He fixed himself a meal of leftovers and picked at it. With all the worry built up in him over Willow, and at the moment Johanna, John had no appetite at all. Lonni's insult on his parenting kept ringing in his head.

The house was dark by the time he had finished trying to eat. John flicked on a few lights, ignoring how the flash of dark-to-bright reminded him of the shed's light yesterday, and dragged a lounge chair to the phone.

Sometime after he had fallen asleep. Or had drifted away in his worries so far he had no awareness of himself. Either way, John shot upright back to the land of consciousness at the noise.

The phone.

Oh God, the phone!

His hand ripped the receiver up to his ear in record time.

"Hello? Hello?"

Goosebumps rippled on his arms as he stood. It was yesterday again. Yesterday but without Johanna. Without another human to anchor him, to chase the shadows.

Breathing rasped through the new phone he had just bought that day with no more clarity than it had the day before.

"Willow? It's me. It's daddy. Talk to me. Talk to me honey, I'm here," John gripped the phone so tight it hurt but the pain never registered, "I'm here."

The rasping, static filled noises continued as indistinctly as it had before. But the breathing, when it was clear...It was his daughters. No matter the interference, he knew it as clearly as if Willow was at his side breathing loudly.

"Just-just tell me where you are." There were tears. John failed to realize they were there and felt no shame at his sobbing. His mind was focused completely on his daughter's breaths. "Just-talk to me. I'm right here. I'm right here."

It started with a clicking- like a light bulb shorting out. The same moment there was an increase in the static and then-

_" d-a-d ?"_

The light behind his chair flickered; it was a strange backlight for the sight of John straightening up. Out from the hunched over position, he let out a gasp; and then he was back hunched over the phone protectively. Over the messenger that delivered his little girls voice to him.

She was alive!

She was there- right there in that house with him.

"Yes! It's me! It's me! Talk to me! I'm here, I'm here!"

This time there was no growl. Instead the static grew and grew. The noise pitched up in tone as he spouted reassurance after reassurance into the phone until it snapped. The living room light flickered out. Sparks danced along the flat of the receiver and burned at John's fingers. He dropped the fried phone in pain.

"No! No, no, no, no-" John slammed on the keys in desperation after he picked the phone up again. His moaning pleas had no answer and they grew in volume until he ripped the ruined phone from the wall and slammed his fists behind him.

She was gone. Willow had been right there, he had heard her, and now she was lost to him again. Now he was alone in a house without either of his daughters to see him rage and wail.

The panic began to fade enough that he noticed it. The light. The light in the hallway. There was a buzzing noise in the air, or maybe that was his ears- he wasn't sure. All he was sure of was that _something_ was going on. The flickering lights, the calls, the noises, all of these things had him on the edge of fear and hope simultaneously. John rose to his feet shakily.

The first light blinked until he stood besides it. The moment he was parallel the action stopped.

"What…"

Any chance this was a natural occurrence caused by the light's bulb shorting out fled when the other hall light blinked. Right outside Willow's door. Like a path. A path of lamps. John crept down the hall; his hand reached instinctively against his body for a revolver that was no longer on him.

In the midst of this silence broke sudden noise; music, playing startlingly loud, coming from behind Willow's shut door. The door that leaked...bright light from the crack at the bottom._ Light that was not turned on when he entered the house._

The knob was grabbed tentatively and then forced aside. There, on Willow's desk, was the stereo blasting away one of Johanna's tapes.

The light on his nightstand began to dance along with the unexplainable music. John was drawn to the blinking. Two worn hands grasped the edge of the shade and looked in.

"Willow?" The question drifted down at the brightening light. The bulb grew whiter and whiter and-

Shot out. The entire room was left in dark silence. Only the moon outside offered any light. It was back to normal.

It should've been.

But now the darkness was more oppressive. And the silence-

The silence only emphasized the straining sound. John shot around and let his still adjusting eyes fall on the wall. The paint pushed outward. Points and shapes pressed against it from inside the wall and all the while, as the wall strained itself from its still position, was the growl from yesterday. John's hand first flew to his belt as if to grab a phantom gun. Then, without a weapon suddenly appearing in his hold to defend him, the man ran.

Ran from the room. Ran from the house. With the overbearing sense something was chasing him, John ran to the safety of his car. The keys fell from shaking hands and jittered around until finally the door clicked unlocked. The sound of the metal door slamming beside him had him jolting and moving his arms in front of his face in ever primed panic.

Finally salvation was heard in the form of the engine starting. At the same moment, temptation echoed across the driveway from the house to the car: the stereo. Blasting away Willow's favorite song.

A quick glance showed the lights of the house had returned. Not to how he had turned them on but to the bright state they had been in after Willow's voice had come across the phone.

Yesterday something had happened. In the shed with Jane Hopper, John had seen a prelude to the nightmare wall he had just seen. Yesterday he had pushed the shed door open and ran away.

John was still panting. His eyes were still frozen wide with constricted pupils. But his facial muscles worked with determination.

Tonight, John did not plan to run.

* * *

Destinee called them superpowers. The word made Lucy roll her eyes but how else was she supposed to explain it? The kid shut a door with his mind. He looked over their DnD setup and found the little figure representing the team witch without any hints.

He called it "Willow" without any prompting.

Lucy could mock all she wanted but Destinee was confident in her scientific hypothesis: the kid had superpowers.

"Yeah that's her," she leaned forward and the boy leaned just slightly away. "Did you see her?"

"Out on Mirkwood? Do you know where she is?" Mikaela added. Destinee noticed with a bit of stung pride that the kid didn't lean away from the other girl when Mikaela leaned in.

Superpowers or no, 'Eleven's' next action made little sense to Destinee. Slowly and deliberately, he lifted his arm and scattered everything from the board to the carpet. Then, as if it meant something vitally important, he reached and flipped the now empty board upside down. The black textured bottom stared up at the four kids and offered no answers to the three searching girls.

With a slam of his hand, Eleven left Willow's figurine standing alone on the middle of the featureless board.

Mikaela spoke for all of them; "I don't understand. What-what's…?"

The kid hadn't spoken much in their presence. Now he added another word to his audible vocabulary and it instilled a wash of dread through Destinee.

"Hiding."

At this even the skeptical Lucy leaned forward. It seemed she shared that same uncanny dread.

"From-" Mikaela looked around at both of them in search for answers, "From the bad people?"

After seeing that door slam shut and the blood leak from the corner of Eleven's nose, Destinee was more accepting of Mikaela's 'bad men' excuse. So there were people with guns, people that the crazy kid with superpowers were related to, people that were chasing Willow?

That was debunked immediately. Eleven shook his head in the negative.

Then...Destinee again looked at the others. Nothing about this made sense. Did any of them understand? Did any of them feel this creeping sense of worry?

"Then from who?"

Smoothly, Eleven reached to the side of the floor they all knelt on and grabbed another figurine. He set it on the board next to Willow's with a resounding click. Two pairs of eyes stared back when his hand was removed.

The board had been cleaned off and turned over. It was nothing but a black pane and, where Willow's figurine had been symbolically alone on it, she now had company.

The Demogorgon. The monster boss they had failed to defeat just nights earlier in a game.

The same night Willow went missing.

Destinee's hands fell to her white baseball cap and she let out a sigh of confusion and fear both.

* * *

She shouldn't be here. She shouldn't be doing this.

*Click*

He had been nice to her earlier. None of the other fakers in school bothered to try. None sounded sincere when they were forced to apologize. But that kindness was being repaid in a way Wheeler wouldn't appreciate.

*Click*

The scream had been nothing but kids goofing off. It hadn't been her sister. The moment she saw that she should have left. She should have kept looking for Willow.

Johanna paused and looked down at her camera from where she was hidden in the dark of the forest.

She shouldn't be doing this.

The camera was lifted again.

The tall girl was swimming around with something of Wheeler's in her hand. She had jumped in after the other three were safely in the pool and flailed in the air in a manner that couldn't have been anything but purposeful. That was about as much attention as Johanna paid to Harrington.

They were all having fun. Having fun while her sister was missing.

What was it like to have fun with other teens?

Johanna could almost answer that- she could almost feel the appeal this activity must share when she watched the others.

The teens trotted into the house. Johanna began packing to leave when she saw an upstairs light turn on. Nathaniel Wheeler stood in front of the blinds looking outwards. Out at nothing.

*Click*

In that house someone was unsure. Someone was second guessing themselves, worried; they had the face of one about to make a mistake.

Through the lens Johanna saw him and she saw the boy that had, even in the presence of some of the most famous douches in school, tried to comfort her. Maybe tomorrow she could...maybe she could try..? Try to do the same? Strike up a conversation? Ease that obvious unease as he looked out the window before turning and-

The couple moved slowly towards each other after he had lifted his shirt away and beckoned. Because they were a couple. Because Nathaniel Wheeler had his friends already.

He didn't need a weirdo to talk to.

The camera fell down. It only rose again when the back door to the pool area opened quietly and the one teen of the party Johanna didn't recognize came through. It didn't rise to the intimate couple on the other side of the window. This time it pointed forward and took a shot across the dim lighting of the pool.

*Click*

Gray as the rest. Still more vivid than what her eyes alone seemed to offer. The teen leaning against the door he had just shut. His head tilted back and hitting the door. Mouth parted in a sigh. A grimace.

It was pain. The picture painted pain.

Johanna looked up from her camera again, readying it for another. The other teen was grimacing even harder. His face was screwed up in that pain, whatever it be from.

He wasn't happy. In none of the pictures had that boy been happy. Maybe the other teens couldn't see what she could through the lens, maybe they hid from it, maybe they mocked it now from the house once he was outside- it wasn't him. The whole party. It wasn't him. He didn't want to be there; he didn't enjoy it. The lens cut through any veneer Johanna would fall for in person. It revealed the raw.

A picture of a teen in distress over faking it, over being somewhere he didn't want to be, with people he didn't want to be with, unable to click or belong or...or...any of that people stuff dumb teens did at parties while their parents were away.

Like her.

Johanna was so caught up in that repeating line of thought that she hadn't raised her camera for another shot. Now she readied it. Just as the teen shook his head another time bitterly and pushed off the door to leave the yard. She lay in her hiding spot torn. Torn between staying and seeing teens have fun doing their teen thing she just couldn't get but could at least almost seem to connect with by spying, or following the one who had realized his place was not with those other shallow pretenders.

She took one last photo that caught the departing boys back in the edge of the frame. Then, as her camera clicked and clacked in an alert she was out of film, Johanna rose from the brushes. Gingerly she moved through the groundcover in the direction of her car. The red hair of the other boy remained in the corner of her vision as he made for the road as well.

The night was dark away from the house. The girl gave up on trying to follow him and simply moved through the black to where she had parked her own vehicle. The headlights of another car came on dimly and she made to crouch in the dark to avoid sight as the boy fumbled with keys. She didn't want to be caught; not after what she had just been doing. The metal clicked together and a low voice muttered at the sound.

From her position crouched on the ground she could not see the car or the teen. But the headlights illuminated the gray forest around her. She saw the moment they cut out into darkness.

For the second time that night, Johanna Byers heard an alarming sound. A scream. A shriek, less than a second long before it had cut off. This time it had not come from the direction of a pool party.

She shouldn't have been out here doing what she had been doing. But fear of the repercussions discovery would have were tossed aside at the noise. Johanna fumbled at her camera bag and brought out the weak flashlight she had packed.

To her surprise, when she shone it in the direction of the road, there was no shrieking boy. Around the faintly illuminated car there was no one at all.

* * *

_AN- Unbeta'd so please do point out any jarring errors :_  
_Still learning to balance everyone so that's why there was more teen presence than the adults or kids in this chapter_


	3. Holly, Jolly

The police chase a lead as John discovers a way to communicate with his daughter while his other child wrestles with confusing emotions. The kids follow the psychic in pursuit of their missing friend but seem to make little progress. Meanwhile, Nathaniel Wheeler goes looking for answers on where his best friend Bart is.

_AN- Less dialogue this time round. Again, this hasn't been thoroughly checked so please point out any errors in the comments._

* * *

He couldn't see. There were noises, and flashes, and feelings of horror but vision wasn't among the sensations.

Something behind him gave a howling call. Bart stumbled away from the sound blindly. Something on the ground caught his shoes and he fell again.

When Bart had first been pushed, he had gotten a brief view at his surroundings. Then his arm had been grabbed and he had wrenched away frantically; in the process his round glasses fell to the ground. They lay yards away- broken glass so cleanly contrasting with the filth it lay on. Without them, the teen had only one choice and it was not ideal. He ran the opposite direction of whatever had grabbed him. Ran unseeing, tripping, falling, bleeding, and screaming for help that did not appear.

Within seconds of appearing here, Bart fell the first time. His jaw had landed with a painful crash on the moist ground beneath him. It was undergrowth of some sort so he knew he had departed from the road. In the chaos spinning in the adrenaline of his head, Bart was thrown by this discovery; blind though he was, he had _thought_ he was headed down the direction of the road.

It didn't matter. The teen pushed up to his feet and stood a second while his head spun dizzyingly from the fall. Something soft had stuck to his jaw but as he reached to wipe at it there was a growl nearby. A low animal growl that spiked up in pitch to a call. A call for him. Bart had sobbed. It didn't matter at all what other kids would say at the sound, at the sorry sight he must be; in these seconds stretched to eternity, stretched to his entire reality, no other human existed. None were here to judge him as he shuddered brokenly; none were here to help. The only other living thing in his reality now was his...hunter. The one that had grabbed his arm with freezing cold gray claws and now, after he had fled from its grasp, sung after him.

After that first time, Bart had ran ahead again. His arms were in front of him held a bit to the sides and warned him of branches or trees that he could have ran into while blind like this. The left hand hit one such obstacle and the impact forced another pulse of pain through his cut thumb. Through the novice bandage, blood dripped to the ground with a fateful thud that remained imperceptible to human ears.

Up, down, east, west, nothing here made sense. Something stank- it _reeked_ worse than pot, or skunks, or decomposed trash. The stench was processed with vividly awful clarity in the brain deprived of optical input.

In the span of only seconds, Bart experienced a new life. It lasted for years and no time at all. It engulfed his every cell and thought. It had no opportunity or ability to reach beyond for his old life in its old world. He found old thoughts and memories completely foreign as his life was squeezed into the moments of heart pounding terror, sightless senses and the hunter's noises.

From the thumb, another drop of blood seeped through the stained bandage and dropped to the ground.

When the howl carved through the noise of running, Bart found himself cringing away. Without sight he had no warning to keep from falling again. Bare hands slid into soft soil and one grazed something that writhed away from touch. Head stabbing with exhaustion, Bart backpedaled on the ground before he was able to turn himself or stand. The sound had cut off before he fell and now he could only hear his frantic shuffling. His finger ached as it moved along the ground; an untraceable procession of red followed his short path.

Then there was sound.

A chirping, guttural, dangerous sound- above _him_.

Bart shook again and moaned as he turned. A strand of something wet dripped onto his dirty upheld face. With only shadows and darkness to see, Bart wasn't able to tell what it was that had caught up to him. Shaking, the teen tried to stand and found himself pressed up against something. It didn't immediately move towards him as he shoved against it. His futile pushing forced more pain from the cut thumb as the shoved against skin. Such pain was ignorable; his instincts knew worse was seconds away. His bandage bled and, although he couldn't see it, smeared against the thick gray flesh of a monster.

* * *

It was dark when she got back. With her camera packed deep inside her bag and clutched to her side, Johanna found she was glad for it. It was late after all. Her dad was probably asleep. Him asleep was good. Him asleep meant he wasn't worrying about Willow. Him asleep meant he wasn't worrying about her.

It meant she didn't have to worry about him and could let him be at peace. And during the quiet of the house, she could figure out what she was thinking.

Because there was too much- too much thought, too much feeling…

And yet not enough. Not enough to put a name to whatever emotions were pumping through her.

Her heart was still beating irregular when she went to unlock the front door and creep in. It had been beating loudly on and off since the first scream and had picked up again with the second.

The door was already unlocked. Her dad must have forgotten to lock up for the night. That was worrying; he didn't slip up like that. She couldn't remember him ever slipping up on locking the house at night before.

Her footsteps padded down the hall. There was no noise other than her steps, and she tried to make those quiet as she could so that she wouldn't wake her dad in his much needed rest. When she reached her room the door opened with the usual sound of worn hinges.

The noise broke the spell. Johanna would have dropped her camera bag had the strap not been over her shoulders.

Her door had not been the only to open.

Across the hall, the door to Willow's room flew open. The movement and sudden sound made her jump around; the flinch slammed her back to the wall. For a second her wide eyes could only take in a shadow looming from her little sisters doorway.

"Johanna?"

The voice was so quiet, so unsure or confused; it sounded painfully loud to her still shocked senses. Before she managed to compose herself enough to speak, the girl's hand felt for her lightswitch and turned it. It flickered on painfully.

"Johanna...what-where have you been?"

The shadow was just her father. He should've been a comforting presence. Still, she felt thrown off by his alertness. How awake he was. How he was here and awake and asking where she'd been and somehow had not noticed she had arrived when her headlights came through the doorway-

"-Dad, dad, I'm sorry," Johanna stumbled, "I shou-should've…"

Her voice drifted off as her eyes fell from his to his waist. Nervous dread washed over her.

"Dad...what do you have your gun for?"

The old pistol that had always been part of her dad's life but that was never brought out. The one she thought had been packed up in the attic. The one now plainly visible in the holster attached to her father's belt.

"Did something happen?" she asked desperately. Did he find- was Willow- _why did he have it?_

"It's-" John looked away, back over his shoulder at the quiet room her younger sister should've been sleeping in. "Something did, in a way-it's confusing. I'm not sure. There-there was another call-"

"Another?" Johanna's voice cracked. The bag, the one that's strap had been weighing on her shoulder so much more since she put her camera and its film from the night into it, was momentarily forgotten for the first time. She still clutched it but let herself move from where she had been bunkered over it to run down the hall.

The phone lay on the ground in a twisted pile. Johanna dropped down and fumbled with the cord and receiver until she saw how it had been burnt like their old one had.

"Who was it?" she twisted to ask her dad. "Who?"

John's eyes were vacant as he stared down the hall.

"It was Will. It was your sister."

Impossible. It didn't make sense- these calls, the electricity; there had been no storm tonight or she wouldn't have been able to use her camera. Why was the phone burnt out?

"What?"

John shook his head and looked back at Willow's room.

"It was her," he repeated.

"Where was she?" Johanna pleaded. Not to her dad but to someone, something, anything, for answers. "Dad, where'd she say she was? Where was she making the call from?"

The answer stopped her thoughts cold. She was ready to believe him yesterday when he had said the call came from Willow. She had been so willing to believe her sister was alive enough to call. But even that hope had limits.

"She was here! Right here, right here in the house. Here, Johanna, I'll show you," he offered gently and motioned towards Willow's empty room, "She's here still."

That was absurd.

Johanna understood the dread she'd been feeling since yesterday; it wasn't a dread that something awful had happened to Willow, although she was so scared of that outcome.

It was because her dad was the strongest, bravest, safest figure she had in her life- and now he was losing it.

"No. No, dad, no," she stood up and went to him.

"I know," John replied to her protests with a hint of passion, "But just watch. Just watch."

With a jerking motion, her dad reached into her room and flicked the light off. Then his calloused hand was holding hers and helping her forward into the moonlit room she had avoided since Willow went missing.

It was apparent her dad had not been avoiding it. Rather the opposite; he had changed so much of the room during the hours she had been away. Lights from the rest of the house had been moved to sit on the floor, on nightstands, all an exemplar token of lunacy.

"Dad-" Johanna pushed up against his chest, "What is this? You-you've got to stop-"

Why had she been gone? Gone for hours and hours that she should have been here to keep her father grounded. Her father didn't heed her protests. Carefully, he sat down on the bed and Johanna helplessly followed.

"Willow?" John whispered into the air, "Your sister is here. Can you please show her what you showed me?"

In the light from the window, Johanna could see that her fathers free hand had drifted down to his hip. It rested on the butt of his gun. Her stomach roiled.

"Dad…" she pleaded.

Anything further was interrupted when one of the lights nearby sparked. While the sudden brightness in the dark room startled her, she still did not react as dramatically as her dad. John gasped upright and his hand flew from hers to cup the lampshade.

"See that?" he laughed, "See? She's talking to us! Through the lights!"

"No! No, dad!" Johanna stood from the bed and grabbed his shoulders. "It's. Just. Electricity-" she was shaking and the action moved her father slightly, "It's acting up, it's not-"

"It's not!" John asserted, "Something is going on here! While you were gone, the wall-it-"

For one moment she thought her dad was going to gesture with the revolver at the inconspicuous gray wall. The truly haunted look in his eyes made her break even further inside; it was so obvious now that she shouldn't have left him alone to his nightmares.

"What? It what?"

"Some... _thing_ tried to crawl out of it. Johanna, it was moving outward and I heard-I heard the noise from the phone-"

"Dad!" she cried, "You need to sleep! You need to stop this- No more lamps. No more guns. Please."

Her dad looked away; he was shaking as much as she was.

"I have to let her know she's safe," John whispered, "I have to keep her safe."

The hand he had held hers with was slowly engulfed. Johanna tugged at it and he gradually followed the prompting to stand.

"You have to stop this," she repeated quietly, "She is just lost. People are out there looking for her-"

Like she had been earlier. Before she had let herself be distracted. And with that, Johanna's night and its invasion pattern of thoughts came back. The camera bag was clutched tightly against her.

"An-and they're going to find her."

That conviction had to be held on to. Or else she might start slipping. Just like her father. She squeezed his hand tighter.

"I'm-I'm sorry. That I got home so late," Johanna muttered down at their feet, "Let's go to bed."

The light of her room turning on broke whatever spell, flashback from his experience in 'Nam or hallucination or whatever it was, that John seemed to have been under. At least enough that he stopped looking backwards at his set up of lamps and looked at her.

For some reason it felt as if his eyes stayed extra long on her camera; like they could see right through the casing and perceive the photos on the cameras film. Johanna gulped and pressed the bag tighter to her side whilst shifting her balance to put more of her body in front of it.

She didn't know why she was acting this way.

Why she was being so...paranoid. No one could know just by looking at the bag. It shouldn't roil her gut so badly.

Guilt was not a pleasant emotion to experience and it was no better when engulfed in so much confusion. Confusion because. Because. She knew she shouldn't have done it.

But she couldn't completely comprehend why.

"Why were you back so late?" her dad asked softly. He was worried. She wanted to run into his arms and ease that worry.

"I-busy," she snapped instead. Why, why, why- she wanted to tell him about this confused misery and let him rub soft circles down her back; but instead she snapped and hid the bag further.

"With what?" John pressed, "I meant it yesterday, I-I really am sorry I've missed so much. I want to be here for you."

Her eyes stung and she averted her stare before she caved at his pleading eyes.

"Please," his hand brushed hers, "if I can help, in any way…"

Johanna shook her head.

"I shouldn't have kept you up waiting," she turned away into her room, "I'm sorry. But I really do not want to talk about it."

For a few minutes after she closed the door behind her, Johanna shut off to the room around her. The lamp, the posters, the bed; nothing registered. Instead she was completely engulfed in the emotions she could not decipher. Then she slid down against the door and felt the tears come free.

The guilt over her actions earlier in the night was confusingly alien to her.

But the guilt she felt at leaving her father, especially in the state he was in over Willow's room, hanging without a goodnight outside was completely and miserably understandable.

* * *

It hadn't been touched. The metal tokens stood firmly on the black board. The little inch tall monster stared at him while he had tried to sleep. It stared through him in those dreams.

It mocked him.

It laughed and laughed without movement or sound because it _knew_. It knew what was truly at fault here. _Who_ was.

A toy monster had not killed the nice lady (Beth. She had called herself Beth). Had not dragged Miki's friend away. Had not dragged another.

That rested entirely in a humans hand. A child's hands.

His.

But even with how the mocking figure stared all night, Even had not moved it. Nor had he touched the other; Willow. They remained where they were; alone, alienated, upside down.

If only he could make it all make sense to Miki. But he didn't have the words for it.

The symbols ticked by slowly. Even waited patiently. He was alone but only until _three-one-five_. Then Miki would be outside by the power lines. With the loud ones. Even was looking forward to it.

Until then, the numbers changed slowly. Eventually he crept up the stairs. The foods Miki had fed him yesterday had come from a bland unit in the kitchen. Even found it and pulled it open.

_Cold!_

The door was slammed shut. Then Even tried again, slower, this time expecting the cold air.

Food raided and devoured, he explored the house once again. The Lay-Z-Boy was startling and fun. The novelty wore off and he moved on in exploration.

There was another room upstairs that wasn't Miki's. There were more pictures.

Happy pictures.

Two boys.

A child.

Even liked those pictures. He liked the room.

It had a peaceful feeling about it. A happy air. Mementos, like Miki had, but of a different flavor.

But at the same time the room left Even confused. In it he felt happy and melancholy both.

It was nothing like his room. It was colorful and cozy and full of life.

It wasn't clinical and cold and sparsely decorated with a drawing and 12 the stuffed animal and a plant, that last gift from Mama before it had happened.

_"Contact"_

Those were not thoughts Even liked.

But things Even did not like did like to reach for him. Mama had made him realize that.

_"It's reaching out to you, because it wants you"_

He didn't want it. But it wanted him.

Even turned away from the room. It was such a beautiful room- he could no longer take it. The hurt.

Downstairs came another reminder. The red can. The bright tune and rolling can.

The crunching can.

Mama's smile.

The trickle of blood.

Even shook his head. He had left. He had crawled through that pipe and left. All of that should be behind. Now he was with Miki. Miki had a nice house and nice words and a nice smile. If he could stay in there forever, Even would feel content.

But Miki wasn't content. She wanted her friend. She would look for her where the child was lost and Miki could find the danger. Either Mama's people and their guns. Or something equally bad for her.

Why couldn't Miki stay in her nice house and stay away from the danger?

_"It's calling you, so don't turn away from it this time"_

Maybe Miki felt that call. Even should have turned away. He shouldn't have listened to Mama. Miki shouldn't listen to that call either.

It would hurt her.

A cat meowed behind the fence outside in the sun.

Another yowled behind a different sort of fence.

Its mind crushing like the can.

Mama's frown.

Overhead, the lines buzzed. They reminded him of _home_. Even did not like home.

And he would not let Miki find it.

* * *

Chief Renca pulled his coat on as he stormed out of his office.

"Suit up boys," he fixed the collar and cracked his neck, "We've got a lead."

Slowly, Callahan lifted his legs from his desk and stood. Powell took the initiative and left for the car first, the other officer on his tail. The chief made to follow when a different voice interrupted his movement.

"Forest." Hop stood from behind her partition. "Do you have room for another?"

The idea had pestered her since she had visited Beth's diner the day before. The 'lead' that Forest had was something found by a middle school professor the night before; and it was one that would lead them into Hawkins National Laboratory. Which Hop knew she could not get in to.

Unless it was with the cops.

"Wh-I don't know," Forest frowned, "I don't want to leave the place empty. And you're not equipped…"

It had been years of working with the man that had given her the guts to ask for this favor. If Hop had figured he was the type to automatically dismiss her request, she wouldn't have bothered asking.

"Chief. I've been here for almost five years now. Can't I ride along this once?"

Other's had. She'd seen them. Young adults or old adults that wanted to see Hawkins Police in action or wanted the experience.

"...well," Forest darted his eyes to the side.

An hour later when the car of four returned to the station, it was evident he had caved.

And an hour later, Hop found she was in an even worse mood than her perpetual one. She had been cramped in the back with Callahan and had been forced to sit sideways while he leaned forward into the front seats space.

That, and the knowledge that something was wrong, had her frustrated. When they returned to the station, Hop ignored her desk and knocked on Forest's door. When she heard his 'enter', she went into the small room and shut the door behind her.

The chief was busy writing something when he looked up to see his visitor.

"Yes? What is it?"

In the years she had worked here, Hop had learned that Forest Renca had a good disposition. It was one of the reasons she continued to work for him; there was mutual respect. This was, without a doubt, the most frustrated she had ever seen him.

"Chief," Hop sat herself down on the chair in front of the desk, "About the lab."

He set his pen aside and crossed his arms on the desk to give her his attention. It didn't appear to be full attention but how could she blame him? There was a missing kid and a suicide in the span of two days. His stress had to be elevated. For a moment she wondered if he took Tuinal to keep that stress from building.

"Today when we were shown the surveillance videos at the lab, there was something wrong."

Forest blinked slowly. His silence prompted her.

"The night of the seventh footage was clear. We had to cancel that night's search party-"

"Because of the rain," he finished for her. Slowly, Forest nodded and accepted the information with a distant expression. Then he reached over for his notes.  
"I don't know what about, but they're lying," she said.

"Hiding something," Forest corrected without much inflection. He was busy scratching down something in his notepad.

"I could go to the library," Hop stood and brushed her jacket down from where it had rumpled in her hunch, "Check i-"

"Jane, look," the chief interrupted. He looked up at her and sighed, "I know you worked in the big cities. But out here we operate differently than independent journalists. We're a team. Each of us has a job. I need you to filter the calls, sort the information that gets brought in. I need to stay in here and sort my thoughts. I'll send one of the officers to the library because right now they don't have a job to do like you and I do."

That should have been enough.

Any other day and it would have been. But Hop felt a different drive in her system since Willow Byers went missing. And she wanted to pursue the unease she felt on the matter.

"Chief-"

"I need to be able to rely on you," Forest interrupted again softly, "I can't rely on Powell or Callahan to do your job right. I can't struggle to keep up with the extra work you leaving while you're still on duty would cause me. I'm sorry."

A fist swung clenched at her side but it wasn't out of anger towards Forest. She bit her cheek and looked at the wall. It was true; she couldn't leave during her hours.

So she'd have to go after.

"Understood, chief." Hop nodded and felt the immediate need to be out of that room. But when she touched the handle, Forests voice spoke up again.

"Jane."

She cast a glance back at her boss. He gave her a nod.

"Thank you for the lead. It was a good catch."

It didn't make her smile; there wasn't much that could in the last few years since Sam. But it did fill her with a vindication. Hop nodded back wordlessly and left the room.

* * *

Once her daughter had left for school, John made his move. It didn't matter what Johanna thought. From her perspective he must look crazy but John Byers had never been so sure of two things in his life:

His little girl was here in this house and something dangerous was as well.

And both those convictions had him absolutely sure of one thing; he would never, ever give up on keeping Willow safe. No matter how he looked.

Donald certainly thought he looked mad. But the man had rung him up without pressing at least. And Johanna...she was going to be upset when she got back and found all the lamps.

But Johanna hadn't been there last night. She hadn't seen.

And she hadn't told him where she had been while he had worried and worried about her.

It kept hitting him how little he had been there for his oldest. And now, after his youngest was missing, he worried he had lost her too.

A knock on the door had John jump; he was in the middle of nailing strands of Christmas lights up and some of them were pulled free from his instinctual jerk.

It was Kade Wheeler and his little toddler Howard. John ushered them in nervously and tried his best to listen to Kade as the other man talked empty reassurances. The visit came to an abrupt end when little Howard disappeared. The moment Kade looked around and asked where he was, John knew the answer. He bolted for Willow's room and hoped the toddler was fine. Just as he threw the door aside, John saw the wall moving back into place. The blonde child was looking up at it and turned his questioning face towards the adults.

Without thinking, John grabbed Howard and pulled him and away from the wall. It was purely instinct. Kade took the toddler from him and cast him an expression that filled John with guilt. The other man thought he was scaring Howard.

But he didn't realize that the toddler had been in danger. Whatever growled behind a fluid wall was tied to Willow's disappearance; it couldn't be safe for a toddler.

And Kade didn't realize how important it was that Howard had seen something.

Because it meant he wasn't crazy.

It meant that, when he had ushered the two Wheelers from the house, he was free to set up lights for Willow without feeling like he was feeding into some unhealthy insanity.

Howard was a second witness.

But he could have been a second missing child. John couldn't explain the logistics of the matter, but he did know that when the lights shot out and wall grew forward it was the herald of something dangerous. And even if Kade looked at him with hurt as he was kicked from the house, John knew it was for the best; he couldn't let another missing child be added to his conscious.

* * *

The others had been laughing and chatting away. They weren't worried about Bart. But Nat was. Because Bart never skipped school. He never kept his parents from knowing where he was (except last night. Last night he had lied to them. Last night was the first lie) but now Mrs. Holland was unaware of his roundabouts. That wasn't like Bart.

So while Carl talked on and on about his 'frostbite' and Tammy made very publicly visible jokes on exactly what Nat and Stephanie had done last night (Oh how it felt like the whole school was looking at him), Nat couldn't stop worrying over where his friend was.

"Hey," Stephanie asked him quietly while he picked at his food, "You 'kay?"

"Yeah!" he tried to say brightly, "I'm fine."

Peachy, he was sure. After picking away without any appetite at all and listening to the others for the duration of lunch, Nat found he couldn't focus on them anymore. Not even when that redhead girl, Nicole, came over and squished up against Carl while Tammy didn't spare them a jealous glance, instead still focused on laughing about something with Stephanie, could he engage.

So, just as the redhead opened her mouth, Nat stood and excused himself.

He had better places to be.

* * *

Johanna spent the entire night and morning not knowing what she was going to do.

Just trash the film?

Hide it?

Give it up to the victims for their judgement?

It wasn't until school that she found her mind made up. It wasn't until she made eye contact with Nathaniel Wheeler and he offered a little grin and wave.

And then what would have been obviously guilt to many other people explained itself to her.

As much as Johanna wanted to just shove the bag under her bed and cope with the paranoia she had attached to it since last night, the girl found she couldn't. She couldn't just pretend it had never happened.

So she would print them. She'd look them over for any sign related to Willow. And then she would hand them over to Nathaniel Wheeler and apologize for betraying the friendship he had offered her yesterday. He could decide whether to destroy them or prosecute through the police, though she fervently hoped he wouldn't since her father had enough to deal with, and Johanna would still feel this guilt but wouldn't be crushed by the paranoia and indecision.

Things didn't go as planned.

When Johanna went back into the cafeteria to find Nathaniel, neither the boy or his friends were anywhere in sight. Feeling the wind let out of her sails at that, Johanna just ducked her head and left. Walked away from the horrible noise that was made by dozens of talking high schoolers and went for her car.

There she found the last people she wanted to. It was going to be bad enough trying to give the prints over to Wheeler and watch his disappointment or anger or whatever it would be. She didn't want to ever see the other partygoers she had spied on again in her life.

But there they were.

A tall redhead girl looked smug as Harrington introduced her as the 'Nicole' that had been telling them about Johanna's 'work'. It was the girl who had been in the film room with her.

They took the bag despite her attempts to protect it. They saw the pictures. They spoke and the words became noise that pounded at her head from every side.  
"I was looking for my sister." The defensiveness came naturally. It was a reaction to being completely outmatched by a pack of predators. It sounded weak to everyone's ears. And Johanna wondered why she had even said it when she had already decided to give the truth up to Nathaniel Wheeler for judgement.

"They can't help themselves," Harrington was patting and pulling at her jacket. The taller girl was crouched by Johanna while the girl tried to shove ripped pieces of pictures together into one pile. "It's hardwired into 'em. So we'll just have to take away her toy."

Tammy H. grabbed Johanna's camera and the girl forgot about the pile of pictures. That camera was expensive. It was her key to understanding the world. It was the lens that she could understand her family or other teens with.

The teens were circling her. She had shoved the papers into her empty bag and was trying to reach her camera.

If Wheeler was there maybe Johanna might have tried to recover her old plan. But as it was there was no attempting it here. And panicked as she was, Johanna knew she needed to get away now.

That priority overcame any hope to get her prized possession back. She had come here to get a sentence from Wheeler after all. What difference did it make if that sentence came from the other partygoers instead?

Johanna stumbled up to her feet as Harrington pulled the camera from Tammy. For a second she looked as if she was going to give the camera back.

But getting it back wouldn't get rid of the thoughts and feelings frantically suffocating her. The ones that had made her push her dad away last night.

So Johanna Byers took a step away as Harrington's arm extended and sidled towards her car. There was no potential ally among this crowd and the best thing she could do was run.

"Just." The words hurt to say but whatever she said or did would feel unpleasant at this point. Johanna choked them out.

"Keep the camera."

And then she pulled her car door open and drove from the scene.

* * *

"Bart?"

The Harrington house was quiet. Nat shoved the fence gate open. The pool steamed in the crisp air silently. Without any of its occupants, the house and yard had no sound.

"Bart?"

His voice rang; the voice of his best friend did not reply. Normally Nat wouldn't assume that there would have been one. But Bart's car was still here. So he should be.

Although Bart really shouldn't still be at Stephanie's house. He should have gone home last night. Nat should've heard from him by now.

Something rustled in the forest. Head cocked to the side, Nat started towards it. The patio and pool were left behind and replaced by wild twisting oak trees and bushes.

"...Bart?" he asked the silence.

The rustling occurred again; this time far louder. Nat spun in time to see that he was not alone.

Something ran by with head spinning speed. He could only see the silhouette of whoever it was. Someone tall. Skinny. _Wrong_.

Nat fell to the ground and backpedaled. Whoever the guy, or whatever the creature, had been, it was gone in a split second. Only his beating heart and memory let him know it hadn't been a dream.

Laying among the browned leaves, Nat panted and thought.

Bart was missing. His car was still here. Also here was a...weird guy? Too tall for a man but there hadn't been the fur of a bear. Nat wanted to say he had seen a man but that tall silhouette was hard to differentiate. Over and over, he could only remember one feature.

As Nat had fallen hard to the ground, the man had briefly turned his head as if to see what was behind him.

_And it had no face._

Nat knew immediately, as he grappled with terror on the ground in the once again quiet forest, that something terrible had happened to his missing best friend while he had been outside last night.

* * *

Lucy watched her best friend walking in front of the group with the stranger. That day at recess, she had laughed at Mikaela's expense about the boy. 'Oh Even, of course! I do!' But it had been a joke. Now, seeing her friend so close to this kid who Lucy suspected was crazy, the joke felt less funny.

The kid was dangerous. None of them should be so close to him. But of course Mikaela was googly eyes for him and ignored the weird powers he had and how dangerous they were. That left her in the back with Dusty while her neighbor chatted with a kid that barely even spoke back.

The sky darkened overhead. Dusty's survival packing that had been laughed about earlier gradually became more important; by nightfall, the snacks had been used far more than her dad's old 'Nam stuff.

By darkness it was harder to tell where they were. But Lucy still recognized Mirkwood when they reached it. They were near Willow's house. And getting closer.

Soon, they peeked over the bushes at the house itself. Through the windows shone multicolored lights.

"Here." Even pointed at the house. Lucy frowned in growing frustration. They were no closer to finding their lost friend and they had spent hours following the dangerous weirdo around.

"Yeah this is where she lives," Mikaela answered the boy.

"Hiding."

This time Lucy didn't stay quiet.

"No, no," she stomped up to the duo. "This is where she lives. She's missing from here."

Even just stared at her. He didn't nod or shake his head or say a word. It was uncanny. Lucy turned with her hands in the air to glare at Mikaela.

"I swear, if we walked all the way out for nothing-" Dusty started.

"That's exactly what we did!" Lucy interrupted her curly haired friend. She pointed a finger at Even and let loose with every frustration that had built over their seemingly hopeless search for Willow. They should've just gone to the police to start with. The adults could find their friend, if there was a Willow alive to be found. Not some weirdo kid and them. "I told you that he didn't know what the hell he was talking about!"

Mikaela kept trying to ask Even why he had brought them there. Lucy continued saying how dumb they'd all been to believe him in the first place. They continued on until the joyful colors from the Byers' house windows were matched by the flashes of red and blue from the road. Sirens screamed by.

All four children looked at each other in silence and then as one crawled on the bikes to follow the emergency.

* * *

It first came to him through a thought on Morse code. John still had that code memorized and remembered bits and pieces of a few others.

The idea sprung, John had pulled a batch of the lights to Willow's, and Johanna's years prior, favorite hiding cabinet.

The code he made for his daughter was simple.

One blink for yes.

Two blinks for no.

And so John listed off the questions he had for his lost daughter. She glowed brightly once for him and he knew, as he gasped and almost dropped the bundle of lights, that it had worked. That she was there.

He sobbed through his questions and choked on relief with almost every answer:

Was she alive? Yes. Yes!

And the next pressing concern slipped free.

Was she safe?

Willow's presence lit up twice in quick succession and John felt his heart drop. For a moment he could only cry over the lights in his hands.

"I'll find you," he promised repeatedly, "I'll find you."

* * *

The figure had ran into the forest and, for something so tall, disappeared. Nat followed the crushed brush in hope that it had been smashed by whoever, or whatever, that had been. For a few minutes, he resigned himself to hopelessness. He knew, or thought, something terrible had happened to Bart. But the faceless man seemed unreal in the bright sunlight now.

The forest was as quiet as the Harrington house. It was as if the birds and creatures had caved themselves away for the day. Maybe it was because of the...the bear-thing-man. Nat could only guess as he moved hopelessly for a sign of the animal-person.

Almost ready to give up, he heard it; the sound was heavily pronounced in the silence of the woods.

A squelching.

Nat's eyes narrowed. The noise was unnatural and was the third 'unnatural' of the day for him, behind Bart not going to school and the man with no face. Under the light of the sun filtered through the clouds of the day, Nat tripped and jogged his way to the sound.

And almost stopped at the sight.

It came from a tree.

A tree unlike anything he had ever seen before.

The bark was crawling downwards slowly over a hole in the base of the trunk. The dirt below the entrance to the hole was red and glistened. Tentatively, Nat knelt down and poked at it. His finger was brought back coated in slime.

There was no sign of the figure running through the woods; it was if he, or it, had disappeared into thin air. _Or _into a hiding spot. Like this conspicuous shrinking hole that squelched and dripped a disgusting fleshy mold-like substance.

The hole was still big enough to fit an animal or person. But the bark grew impossibly accelerated to make its slow descent down and cover it.

Nat had a moment to think. A second to consider.

Then he crouched down further and began to crawl.

* * *

_AN- I considered it- I almost had him live. But even without as bad a spawn as the pool, the bleeding would still spell death for Barb/Bart because the monster could track that blood from miles away._  
_This is an AU but logistically Bart was doomed the moment he got cut like in canon._


	4. The Body

John Byers has a startling contact with the unknown while Jane Hopper researches the Hawkins Lab from the library and state troopers make a discovery. Stephanie Harrington believes her boyfriend is avoiding her until she makes a discovery of her own. The dead girls sister feels growing anger at her father for refusing to believe the body dregded from the quarry belongs to his daughter. Meanwhile, the kids hear a voice that they never thought they would again.

_AN- Written all at once and unbeta'd so there are no doubt errors- please point them out in a review so that I can fix this_  
_The writing style in certain sections here is an experiment on my part- hopefully these section fit into the rest fluidly but if you notice them being jarring then feel free to point that out as well_

_Any warnings from canon apply here_

* * *

**.-. ..- -**

It had been the second time that John had gone upstairs into the crummy attic. First was after the wall. After he had run from it to the car and then stormed in again. He'd gone up to grab his pistol and holster; if the wall started up again, he would be ready.

The second was to drag down an old machine.

_"You see how it works?"_

_Willow bounced on her heels. Her hair covered her face but that big smile was still somehow visible under it all._

_"Can I try? Can I try again, Dad?"_

_The little girl was engulfed, squealing all the way into the air and back to land, her proud father tossing her and catching her safely; once next to the machine again, John ruffled her hair and produced a few more embarrassed giggles and a swat._

_"Go ahead. Try spelling a new message; one just for me."_

_**.. **_

_Looking down at the booklet in her hands, the child bit her lower lip in concentration and slowly inputted the remaining words_

_**/ .-.. - ...- . / -.- - ..-**_

She had learned more than just a new message. While Lonni had shook her head at the waste of time, his little girl memorized the code.

To this day there was little doubt she remembered how to use it.

John almost collapsed after he finished setting it up. But, although he took a few recovering breaths from the effort lugging that had taken, the oldest Byers remained standing. He looked down at the device.

More effective than christmas lights.

With this, they could speak. She could tell him where she was.

"Okay," John spoke out to the empty room, "Okay, baby, talk to me."

A little noise greeted him and it caused him to take in a fluttering breath.

"Good! Good, good, good-"

His hands found the sides of the machine and he stared at it like his daughter could stare back.

"Will? Can you tell me where you are?"

Dot. Dash. Dot.

John moved his head to every sound, mentally translating every letter of the words.

R-I-G-H-T-H-E-R-E.

"Here? What, what does that mean?" he stammered.

Behind him, the multitude of christmas lights began to dance. They were ignored. In a manner like his two daughters, John had focused in on one sensation and blocked others out.

He did not realize the warning being delivered by the lights behind his back.

"I don't know what that means. Can-can you tell me what to do? What should I do? How do I get to you? Find you? What should I do?"

The first sound broke through his ever vocal distress. John cut himself off and heard each dot and dash like a toll. The lights began to move far more erratically. Under their shades, the other lamps whined.

**.-.**

A straining sound pulled at John's attention.

** ..-**

The lights grew dim. They dropped far too fast.

** -.**

John Byer's mind finished the translation and tried to decipher its meaning.

R-U-N

Why?

From what?

The same sound from Willow's room the night previous changed in pitch. The straining broke. John spun from the machine to the torn wall.

There was a growl audible beneath the sound of clicking christmas lights and unearthly squelching. And a quiet slam- the sound made as the hand hit the wallpaper that wasn't currently writhing outward. His breath caught in his throat and failed to move from there.

Yesterday John had knew something was in that wall. But he had ran before he'd seen it.

Earlier that day, John had knew that the young Wheeler boy had seen something in the wall too. But neither of them knew what.

It looked like a skeleton.

Like a corpse.

Like elongated bones with a loose coating of rotted skin covering them from complete exposure.

And it was pushing against his wall, pushing the rest of whatever body would be attached out.

The wallpaper flapped above what looked like a dark hole. Colorful flashes did nothing to illuminate what exactly was behind the pale form leaning over the floor. Slime hung from the torn wallpaper, attached to the gray back. The bony, ridged back.

Not an animal.

Not Willow either.

Not anything John had seen before- nothing outside nightmares.

His nightmares, flashes of imagination, waking dreams, all taking the face of dead soldiers, friends, strangers, rotted, torn, mangled-

Then from its position crouched over the floor, the invader threw its head up and it was nothing seen in any of those dreams. It wasn't the face of a loved one. It wasn't the face of a villager.

It wasn't a face at all.

John screamed.

Simultaneously, his hand fell to his side and pulled the gun free. Fired it into the nightmare.

The first shot knocked that faceless head to the side.

_Blam! Blam! Blam!_

The impacts kept that head bent inhumanly far to the side; on a human, that angle would mean a broken neck.

But it kept rising, kept rising up on knobbly legs, kept trying to move its face forward again every time a shot landed and knocked it back again.

The bullets weren't working.

There was no blood. No shattering of bone. No gray matter speckling outward.

He was still screaming; one leg was back bracing him while both arms held the pistol forward and emptied its entire clip as rapidly as he could press the trigger.

Reds, blues, greens, yellows, all blinking psychedelically, all making his head spin and stomach sick. The growling was rumbling through his bones- nauseating. Nauseating from the visceral disgustion. Nauseating from the absolute fear.

*Click*

Its head finally spun forward and no bullet knocked it sideways again. The faceless flatness seemed to loosen, hang forward, maybe it would be nothing but blackness underneath those flaps just like the abyss behind the flaps of wallpaper-

John didn't stay to see anymore.

He spun and did as his missing daughter had instructed him to.

* * *

The quarry was too large to see the other side of at night. Instead, all that could be seen was black water- liquid hiding any secrets the imagination placed inside the oily darkness that reflected the flashing colors of despair.

Red.

Blue.

Red.

Blue.

Troopers sloshed through the water slowly. The form in their arms looked small.

So small.

Still the sirens wailed. Even after they had no reason to. There was no chance for the paramedics on the scene to save the little body.

At this point, she was nothing but a corpse.

Somewhere on the scene, a group of children felt something snapping while they watched the pale body lifted free of the oily water and placed reverently on the land.

Blue lips were parted in an eternal breath.

Wet hair trailed on the pasty skin.

Never never had any one of them wished to see their friend like that.

Mikaela Wheeler slapped away the hand of the small psychic boy and let the tears fall. Let the betrayal be said out loud.

Lucy Sinclair felt no vindictiveness at being right all along- it didn't matter that they had left things up to the adults and the adults had found Willow; not when it meant Willow was gone.

Dusty Henderson stared down at the gray ground as she biked away; she couldn't look back. She couldn't see it.

They were just kids. They didn't-they didn't deserve-

Out of the three, Lucy was the only one who had not been sheltered against death. Even she had not quite comprehended the finality of it- deep inside she knew her friend was gone but for now she had yet to convince her mind that she would never, ever, see Willow Byers again. Mrs. Henderson had never let her kid near the possibility of death; their cat was too young to be in any danger and there was no other member of their family in immediate threat of dying. So the woman had determined Dusty didn't need exposure. And Kade Wheeler wanted the picture perfect family- one with kids that could just be kids.

Not grieving before their time.

Out of the four, one had seen death. One had caused it.

But for once, he hadn't here. He knew the girl was _hiding_. Not _dead_.

The girls pedaling desperately back to their homes didn't pay his words any heed at all. So Eleven only leaned on Miki's back while she drove and didn't spare him a look or word at all; rested and let his own tears drip onto the girls coat.

Somewhere, a man ran stumbling down his road like death was behind him. In front of him was a light- a lifeline.

A car.

His oldest daughter's.

She saw his panic, his tears, his shaking; she pulled him into a hug and clung just as desperately.

The man saw his daughter's arrival as a lifeline because it was a normalcy; it was her safe. It was her driving home safely. It was her and not some shadow obscured monster.

The girl saw her father's hug as a lifeline because she had learned that her desperate hope for her sisters return was pointless. She was gone. She was dead. Drowned. While she had worked away an extra shift she had only picked up to receive a bit more cash before christmas. So that she could get Willow something the girl would like.

She felt that she had killed her sister.

But her father was alive.

Somewhere in those same forests was a complex with beeping satellites and radio dishes and a virtual fortress buried underneath it. And into this complex drove the state trooper vans that had discovered the body of Willow Byers.

* * *

It was dark after hours and the night air was working wonders. Hop felt herself perking up as she parked by the still open library; it was a small burst of energy that began to wear out as she looked over the microfiche articles on Hawkins Lab.

The librarian didn't help, not when she was clicking her tongue and folding her arms, voice hissing down at Hop's seated figure well deserved complaints.

"You have a lot of nerve showing up here," she whispered in a manner that may not have only been grounded in the library's quiet. "What? You couldn't have at least called?"

Hop had just offered another placating shrug and looked away from the librarians eyes to the shoulders instead. That energy that had perked up at the pressure, the excitement at only having an hour and half after her work let out and before the library closed drifting away under a different pressure. A self invited pressure, granted; why else would she have arranged to meet with that new guy tonight?

She really was too tired to deal with any shit right now. Just let her look at the records. Help, even. There were only a few hours of the day she could afford to lose in here, and drinking, and finding whatever pleasure she could to break up the lull of guilt that never lifted no matter how many pills were tossed back, only a few of those hours before sleep demanded her attention.

"Just said, 'Marissa! Hey, it's not going to work out," the shorter woman kept on whispering, "'Sorry I got your hopes up for nothing and wasted your time, I'm a bitch.'"

Well deserved remarks over, Hop just drew her lips into a thin lined grin and popped out the word "Yep" crisply. Eyes glancing up from Marissa's shoulder, she muttered a weak, "Uh. Maybe we could-"

The librarian rolled her eyes.

"Yeah…"

Alright. Enough of this. She had come here on a mission and didn't have much time to spare.

"Newspapers? You got 'em? I need anything on the Hawkins National Laboratory." And yes, that did have to do with her job. Yes, this was looking for the missing kid. Yes, this conversation was annoying her (no, she did not let that last part slip).

Marissa gave out a sassy 'himph' and crisply strode away (not long after arriving to dump a few more newspapers on the desk Hop had been making a mess of).

And now with the Chief and her coworkers and anyone else that wanted to draw her focus away from her work gone, Hop let the silence soak in. Read the little files on the grainy screen. Took notes.

Stared down at Hawkins very own boogeymen. Standing with their clipboards and lab rats dressed in hospital gowns to match their status.

Pump 'em full of lsd and stick them in a tub of water? CIA sanctioned research. Governmental science.

Hop frowned at one figure standing in the background of a picture. She recognized that white hair and calm expression (not what you should look like after having your little experiments exposed, eh?). She'd seen it just that day after all.

The woman currently walking the Hawkins Laboratory corridors as the director of the entire department.

Outside in the main room of the library came muted noise- loud, yelling, exclamations, none of which Hop tried to decipher. The clock ticked by. The date she had set up earlier approached closer and closer without Hop sparing it a thought at all. Her concentration was on deciphering every word and trying to find the _answers_, the evidence, among this all that would give her the peace of knowing why that lab unsettled her so much.

Brenner.

The director was the key here; she worked with MK Ultra and then instead of being released by the government she was running the lab that outright lied to the police earlier in the day?

Marissa came back, pressed those glasses down again to give out another 'tsk' her way and made Hop jump in her seat where she'd been too focused to notice the libraries dimmed lights and foot tapping librarian.

"Five 'till. Do me a favor and clean the desk before you go. Not like there's been any point to all the work you've done here tonight."

And that wrapped up her research.

Hop stuffed her notes into her bag with a growl and pressed her hand to pounding temples. She left the microfiche behind and reentered the library where Marissa was packing up by the desk.

Offered a thanks. Went to leave. Found out that the research was in vain.

Felt the world go colder.

All the noise out here before made more sense now. Marissa's comment on the pointlessness of her search were comprehensible.

While she had been sitting in here reading about CIA drug research, her coworkers had received a call from state workers.

They'd found the girl.

Or her body.

The face of the man in the aviator jacket, worry lines around his eyes, hand compulsively running down his beard, came to mind; she had let herself get invested in this case because she had told herself that this time she wouldn't let the kid die.

But Willow Byers had followed Sam.

Now there would be two ghosts haunting her.

The pressure of guilt that drove her to drink and sleep away the nights with different people each time had doubled- and somehow, Hop felt no urge to do either habit. She felt no urge for anything.

Ushered out the door, the woman checked her watch and tried to break past the fog to remember what she was going to do next.

Right. She was supposed to go out with Don, that accountant she'd met recently. Food would take two, three hours; then they'd end up at her place so that would be another two hours.

Hours she could be spending here researching Hawkins lab. Or hours she could be spending making sure John Byers stayed safe after finding out the news of his daughter.

She slammed her hat down on the top of her truck and sighed. Already her head was aching.

Some might say she'd wasted the last few hours of her night. But even if-

Even if the kid was dead.

Something about her death was fishy. Something to do with the lab and Director Brenner and rain free security tapes.

And those answers could at least be exposed to the remaining family.

* * *

"You got played," Tammy blew smoke up into the frosty air and then lolled her head over to look at Stephanie. The words that kept echoing in her own worries.

The brunette had an eyeroll prepared and delivered it.

Carl laughed and shook his head. Hand darting out, he stole the cigarette from his girlfriend.

"By goody-boy Nathaniel Wheeler? I don't think so."

Steph made sure not to show anything else on her face but the expression that had already been plastered up. Not any hope at what Carl had said. Not any disappointment at Tammy's statement. The statement that felt very likely; the pain in her chest, constricting, so close to panic that faded everytime it spiked.

Was this what it felt like for her boyfriends? The ones' that last only as long as a few sleepovers. Then she'd walk from without much of an explanation?

That wasn't the vibe she got from Nat. It wasn't. He really hadn't felt like the type that would sleep with her and then leave her in the dry.

That was what she did.

But not to him. The anxiety that he'd turn the tables had barely even registered until midday. When she got back from school and called him. And then an hour later called again. Both times only receiving a frustrated sounding Mr. Wheeler telling her that no, Nat was not home yet.

Maybe he was just scared. Maybe taking the step last night had flipped a switch in him and he'd run to clear his head?

Steph's parents had gotten home at some point in the afternoon and said a mandatory hello. Then, a bored expression on her face, her mom simply informed her that they were both tired. She had disappeared upstairs and the slam of her bedroom door was the last sound Steph had heard from her. At said slam, her dad tossed his fork down on his half finished plate and stormed to the living room. The dining room was engulfed in quiet. Steph hated quiet.

She tossed her parents food into the trash and threw the radio in the kitchen on while she cleaned up the sterile dinner. Outside, the sun was low and the trees shadows covered the patio and forest beyond.

The sound of Billy Joel fizzled into garbled static for a moment. Steph twisted from the sink and frowned at the clunky machine. One soapy hand went out and smacked it in the hopes that it would clear of interference. In that moment, as she had turned to face the radio and inadvertently looked out the window behind the device, it almost seemed as if the pool lights were darker than they should have been; the music gone silent and the evening suddenly oppressing.

After she had finished cleaning up, Steph had gone for the downstairs phone again. The TV was no longer whining in the main room; with both of her parents gone into their rooms, they likely wouldn't come give her any problems for doing her own thing now.

They might not even notice if she left the house.

But if any vague sniff of alcohol or nicotine hit her dad then it would be over. Grounded. Lectures. Disappointment that would still beat her down to a self deprecating puddle to see shining in her father's eyes even if the man was nothing but a disappointing parent.

Steph called over to Tammy's and asked what her best friend was doing tonight. If her place was free. If she and Nat and Carl could come over. Tammy gave her the all clear so long as she did all the arranging.

The phone line rang on. The silence of the kitchen came to mind while Steph wrapped her fingers up in the phone cord and looked over her shoulder at the predictably empty hallway.

Mr Wheeler answered again. No, he didn't know where Nat was. In fact, he was surprised she didn't. There was an acid in that voice that Steph wanted to avoid. Still she told him that if Nat could please call her back tonight, he needed to call the Hallet's phone number. Please.

Manners seemed at the least to defrost that acidity by a fraction.

And then, with phone calls over, the Harrington house's only noise was from her dads upstairs TV, its screaming muted. A familiar form of white noise and big silent house that may as well be empty.

Steph left. Threw a coat on and walked out to the forest street in the now dark evening. Passed a car parked nearby her own house. An empty light blue Volkswagen. One that Steph felt she had seen before; the feeling nagged at her but ,although she decided it had been school that she'd seen the car at before, she couldn't pin down who drove it. After just standing to look at it, Steph shook the unease at seeing a car off empty in these woods and walked on.

She hadn't packed a flashlight but the walk to Tammy's was one she'd tread what felt like a million times. And as consumed in thought as she was, Steph wasn't able to focus on her surroundings.

The anxiety, the guessing game, the wondering about why Nat wasn't talking to her- there wasn't time to consider the woods or the cars parked in them.

Then she'd put on a 'happy face' at Tammy's place, but the way her gaze kept moving to the telephone on the other side of the screen door where they were lounging caught the others attention.

Busted.

But the other two didn't immediately dive on her like a frenzied predator at the smell of blood- they just added their two-cents on why Nat was a no show.

They weren't completely on to her.

Even so, surprisingly, they just dropped their unhappy opinions on her boyfriend and then steered her into the house. Tammy let them all crash in her room. The occupant's stereo was found by a grinning Steph- she was laughing at the littlest provocation. Everything was a bit hysterical in this situation after all; irony was funny and wasn't this ironic? Love 'em and leave 'em Harrington loved and left by the first man she'd let her guard down for? There was a certain comedy to it.

Carl tore away from Tammy and shook his head at her. Didn't mention Nat. Neither had since they'd come inside.

Either this was some attempt at comfort or they still didn't get it at all. Or they weren't comfortable at all seeing that their fellow shallow friend was getting a bit attached to her latest fling.

Or a combination.

She wasn't comfortable talking about it either. Not in one bit. Not to these two.

The radio blasted Journey away. Carl was pushing her up to her feet and forcing her to dance alongside him. It could've been read as provocation; but the redhead's flirting never read as flirting to her. And Tammy just smoked where she lounged to the side uninterested in joining the party. She was a bitch- but she was Steph's best friend and so was Carl.

_"Neither could change their headstrong ways-"_

In the woods outside the last lingering blue of twilight faded away. The prowling grounds of a creature the Hallet household and guests were in complete unawares of.

_"And in a lover's rage-"_

Carl dipped Steph low and then gravity took its vengeful toll and she slipped free. On the carpet where she had fallen, Stephanie Harrington laughed fitfully.

_"They tore another page-"_

Somewhere out there was the boyfriend that had ignored her calls all evening. She wasn't thinking about him. Definitely not.

Carl's hand was tapping her shoulder. Steph reached up and grabbed his arm, pulled herself up, landed against his chest and laughed. Chuckled right into that gray teeshirt and felt him laugh to. Somewhere in the room Tammy was probably shaking her head. Maybe sneering at them. That sneer with a smirk beneath it.

They moved again. The song changed. The two teens continued at it. She gestured at Tammy to join her and Carl laughed at his girlfriend for her avoidance of dancing with the brunette, but the other girl just glanced away after punching at him. For the first time since school had let out and Nat was nowhere to be seen, hadn't bothered to give her a heads up, didn't say a thing, only let her stew in worry that it hadn't been good for him or that he had run out of a fear or that, worst of all, he hadn't ever been the 'Mr Perfect' (as Carl mocked him) the school thought he was- for the first time since all that, Steph felt like herself. Fun.

_"This time I want to be sure. I've been waiting for a gir-"_

The stereo snapped off. Standing by it was the sullen eyed culprit.

"It's late. My mother will be home soon," Tammy explained. And like that the fun was over.

* * *

It was worse than yesterday.

Johanna didn't even feel like she had time to grieve her sister. Not when she entered the house and saw-

Saw-

Her dad protested against the police. Even as Chief Renca tried to be respectful, gentle, in tone as he explained the working theory- no, it wasn't good enough for John.

"Whoever you found," he was shaking his head. Or perhaps it was that his whole body was shaking. "It wasn't my girl. It's not Willow."

Then who was it Dad? Johanna wanted to yell at him. Who else in her clothes, with her face? She didn't say a word.

They listened to his protests. Listened to his proclamation that some creature had crawled through their living room wall. The one Johanna was staring straight at while the noise of the cops and their vehicles and her dad buzzed around her head. The wall was fine. It didn't even have any cracks running on the wallpaper.

The cracks were only in her fathers mind.

And now- now that- now that Willow was-

was-

_**-gone**_

Johanna could understand. The denial. The protests. Even the lights.

_(she'd told him to put the lamps away- did he though? Or did he go spend their rare money on christmas lights)_

She wanted the cops gone. And eventually, after feeling the pounding pressure, the urge to scream, the cracks along her own fracturing mind, they left.

But she wasn't left alone with her dad- with her dad only, with a sister that was never coming home again-

Because someone else barged into their reeling home.

Their new visitor was no more impressed with her fathers protests than she was. At least, Jane Hopper didn't look impressed on the outside.

She didn't look like anything.

_(maybe if she had her camera she could read her)_

_(but the school queen had it and she was left without her way of seeing reality)_

Her hands gripped her head. Shook it. Felt another wave of panicky grief rush coldly through her at the action. But after it was gone and she was left empty, numb, shocked, at least her mind wasn't drifting towards useless, invasive thoughts.

Losing it.

She couldn't. Willow had to be laid to rest. Closure. A respectful closure.

And her dad wasn't in the state to do that for them both.

"You don-don't un-nderstand," John was stammering at the stony woman and gesturing wildly at the room; at the morse code machine, the christmas lights bundled around and strung on the ceiling, the furniture pushed aside in a mess.

"I _talked_ to her," his arms were close to him, palms together below his chest, raised up in supplication for someone, anyone, to believe it. "Just-just an hour ago. She was he-here. She was."

Talked with who, Dad? With who? Where were the signs she was here if she had been?

That's right.

They weren't any.

Johanna pressed her arms up against her temples and moaned.

_(no more shift trades to afford presents for her, eh?)_

"Talking." Jane repeated lowly. It didn't sound like she believed it.

_(don't take that tone around my father! he's my dad, he's my dad and he's never wrong, you'll see)_

"Y-yes, with code. Morse code." John stumbled over, knocking into the couch and barely giving the action any heed at all, until he faced the machine and pointed strongly at it.

"First we u-used lights, one blink for yes, two for no," he elaborated and Johanna briefly had a flash of wild wondering over the likelihood of ghosts, spirits that could brighten lights

_(she knew ghosts were nothing but a child's imagination- and here it had been Willow that had gotten all the genes for imagining in their family-)_

"Then I -I dragged this down so that we could talk. Cause she's hiding, see, but she can talk sometimes when-" Johanna could see his eyes darting from the woman to the wall and back. "When it's not here."

"The…thing that came out of the wall?" the woman said slowly.

_(why are you feeding it? Make him come back, come back to reality, come back to me, don't feed the story-)_

"And chased you?"

Johanna could not understand why they were indulging his fantasy. First the cops listened, now the cop secretary. They had to realize that it was fabricated delusions

_(of course they listened, everyone respected him, as they should, he was her dad and he's never wrong)_

The phantom feelings of their hug danced on her back; at that moment, she'd clung like a lifeline to her childhood hero, to the man that she wanted to grow up to be, to the remaining family she had. Now she felt a snapping of patience every time she saw the set up of the living room or heard her fathers stammering proclamations.

She needed him to be strong. Because without Willow, she wasn't going to be. She needed to be weak.

But they couldn't both be.

And her father was making no moves towards being that stable lifeline that Johanna could tether her grief to as they proceeded with a life that, however incomprehensible it was now, would not have Willow.

"She's in danger! It's after her-" John's voice elevated, with a desperation for belief and hope all at once. "We have to find her. We-"

"What exactly was this thing?" Jane cut him off to ask, "Some kind of animal, you said?"

"No, uh. No. It was-"

Arms retreated back to their sides

_(where they belonged)_

as Johanna looked all the way up and at her father. That haunted tone sounded-

Very real. For a moment.

"..It was...It was almost human, but it wasn't," his words drifted, "It-it had these long arms, these bony arms, and it...It didn't have a face."

Jane repeated the last phrase back to him as if to confirm his witness report. Her father only said the words again. He was drifting. Just like he had last night.

_"She. Is just. Lost. People are out there looking for her and they're going to find her"_

_(find her corpse- too little too late people)_

"John."

The woman's strong voice brought both Byers out of their minds and back to the present.

"Listen," Jane rubbed a hand down her face and then continued, "Listen to me. After Sam...I -I saw him too. And I heard him. I didn't know what was real. And then-"

She looked at her father dead on and he didn't avert his gaze under that intensity.

"I figured out it was all in my mind. And I had to pack it all away. Otherwise, I was going to fall down a hole-"

Was this what that hole felt like? A hundred arms hugging you in darkness, pushing you into yourself until you were one condensed ball of confused horror and numb and despair wrapped in untouchable blackness?

"that I couldn't get out of."

Then the spell broke. Her dad cut Jane off to say that was just grief. He wasn't listening anymore.

Not to the chances that all this was a grief induced fantasy.

"I - I know what I saw," John protested hoarsely, "I swear to you, I know what I saw. I'm not crazy. Here-"

And he pushed from the wall next to the machine he'd supposedly been talking with her

_(dead)_

sister on. Pushed past Jane until his shaking hands were on the table fumbling with his gun and pulling its clip out.

"See this?" he waved it at the other two inhabitants of the room, "Empty. I fired all six shots. I fired them right into that son of a bitch. Now-now look over here-" John marched over to the wall and pointed at a spot on the wall next to the one he claimed something had crawled out of.

"One shot. Lodged right in here. I missed only this once."

Why hadn't she noticed the bullet in the plaster? She should've picked up on that.

She'd told him to put the gun away.

"The other five shots that are missing in that clip hit it. They're not in the wall because they're lodged in that- that thing. Johanna," he looked her way pleadingly, "you know I would keep it fully loaded if I was going to load it at all. You know...you know…"  
"I know you shouldn't have had that with you," she finally spoke up. Her horrified voice wavered. "And that? That's exactly why! You're shooting at nothing dad! At nightmares! What if it had been someone? What if it had been me and you just saw it as some faceless monster you could pin her d-d-dea-th on?"

His face fell. Even without her camera, Johanna had years of conditioning on reading her father.

He looked betrayed.

Then Jane stepped closer to their faceoff. She was frowning like she always was. But her hand was reaching for the gun and pulling the clip from John's hand all business.

"She's right," the woman declared, "Try to get some rest John. Don't go shooting at shadows. Don't. Don't fall down that hole."

Johanna reached for her father and pulled his unresisting form down the hall. She would make sure he got in his bed. And then she'd go to her own

_(right across from Willows- look out for me from up there, won't you?)_

and cry. Put some music on and try to cope. Try to sleep. Get the rest she could before tomorrow when she'd have to face her sisters funeral-

She tried to ignore how Jane had stepped up and was fingering the hole in the wall where one bullet out of six lay buried.

* * *

_"I thought we were friends."_

Even felt the strain on his mind long before the blood trickled free from his nose. Reaching across radio signals was a difficult enough task. Reaching through that void to cross distances and physical barriers put a pressure on his mind not unlike the pressure he could apply to another humans brain until blood streamed from their orifices.

But reaching into there. Into that place. It strained him more than anything.

_"But friends tell the truth!"_

And there was the worry that it would feel him prying.

He didn't want to hear its voice.

The memory made him shiver still.

_It's reaching out to you_

Mama gave him a gift. But her attention was worth more than the plant. Her praise.

_Because it wants you_

If it felt him reaching around in its world, it could come reach for him again. It could find him in the void. It could use his image as it stood in blackness and slide into this place.

Right into the room with Miki.

He wouldn't be able to keep her safe.

But she was being loud to him. The unpleasant loud that her friends were. She was accusatory.

She was sad.

Miki didn't realize that he hadn't just been telling the truth about her friend, about Will; but he hadn't told the truth about from the start.

_"They definitely don't lie to each other."_

Even didn't want Miki to be angry with him. Not over Will. Not over something he didn't deserve.

Not when there was so much she could be angry over that he did deserve.

_"Maybe you thought you were helping, but you weren't."_

Even's hands were pressed painfully tight on the handheld radio. They tightened their grip with every word Miki shot at him.

Outwardly he weathered every accusation.

Elsewhere, he felt over the fuzzy feelings of wrongness, over nothing, over dead, looking for the one he knew was alive. Breathing the air like her human body was meant to even as she breathed in a world that didn't play by those rules.

_"You hurt me. Do you understand?"_

He understood enough to flinch. The movement almost made him lose hold on the trail the human girl left in the otherworld.

_"What you did sucks. Lucy was right about you. All along."_

Lucy- the loudest one. The one who talked about him to the others while he stood right there ignored by her words.

Same as Mama's people did.

Miki was right near his face now. Dried tear marks trailed down the sides of her face. She was so mad. He had hurt her. He hadn't meant to.

She was hurting him. If she could hear Will, she'd know she didn't mean to.

The trails led to one human, two, a live one, a dead one; there was another live one that Miki knew here but Even focused his mind in on the young girl. The one moving along the otherworld slowly; inside the poison of the world could be felt even from out here. A weapon was swinging at her side with every step while she hummed along to words that Even hadn't heard before.

The words didn't matter.

The voice would do.

Even finally looked directly into Miki's accusatory eyes and let the device in his hands bridge the gap his friend could not feel.

" So come on and let me know Should I stay or should I go? Should I stay or should I go now? "

The girl gasped hollowly. Her eyes widened and widened. Even didn't let go of the connections.

"If I go there will be trouble"

"B-ar-t?"

"If I stay it-"

The connections snapped off as Miki grabbed the device from his hands and fiddled with it desperately.

"Will? Will?" she yelled into the radio. Only static returned.

Even could hear it in one ear.

Then the other.

It was disorienting.

Blood was trickling forward.

Mama always smiled when she saw it. Even never wiped it away.

Miki looked up from the device and he could hear her voice almost evenly in both ears as the strain eased off.

"Was that?" she asked softly, "Was it?"

Even wavered in his spot. Any second now and he would need to lay. Or find himself laying down irregardless of his opinion in the matter.

But before that-

He looked at Miki without blinking. There was no more anger in those eyes. There was none in his either.

And he confirmed for her what he'd tried to tell them earlier.

"Will."

* * *

It was actually Tammy's idea. The girl seemed further from her than ever (mocking, that mocking of Nat and the glances at her all the while, like it was spite but why?) but she still looked out for her occasionally.

No matter how close the Harrington and Hallet houses were, the fact was that it was night. And Hawkins was a rural place, especially out here. There could be all sorts of creatures out there; bears, cougars, some furry animal that would be interested in eating her.

But Carl had driven over. So Carl could drive her back.

The two were rather quiet in the car. Steph just sat in the passenger's seat with her head on a fist and stared out the window.

Stared at the forest flying by in grayscale.

Trees.

Pavement.

Car.

Wait.

Steph's head flew up from her fist. All 'boredom' (more paranoid wonderings) gone.

"Carl, wait-"

The teen pushed the brakes and looked over at his passenger in irritation. But Steph didn't spare that annoyance a glance of her own; the brunette's eyes were glued on an object outside.

A car that she'd passed without care in the dark on her walk over. A car that was now illuminated fully by the headlight's of Carl's vehicle.

It was a sight that took all the anxiety over Nat getting cold feet about their relationship or of him giving her the cold shoulder ala her own style- those strained feelings of worry morphed into a completely different worry.

An unease, a sinking concern based in confusion, confusion based in the very presence of the vehicle parked near her own house-

Nat's car.

* * *

"Mom!"

Mikaela sped down the stairs and swung from the landing towards the living room and its laz-y-boy. She just needed to hear her mom reassure her that-

That Even was wrong.

A few minutes earlier, she had snuck her friend upstairs into her brother's empty room. They were going to find some small clothes for him in here and then sneak him into the school in order to use the Heathkit.

Mikaela had opened the door for Even and then toured around the room. Her fingers kept pulling at the sleeves of her sweater as she fidgeted around.

"You know," she started and Even brought his full unblinking attention on her. "When this is over? You-you could still stay here. Not in the basement. You could stay here, in Nat's room," Mikaela offered.

"Nat?"

"Oh that. That's just a nickname. Short for Nathaniel, my brother," she explained. "He's nice. He'd let you stay."

The boy blinked slowly at her and then moved away towards the wall of photos above Nat's desk. Miki fidgeted her way over until she was by his side again. Even's soft eyes were shut. A finger had trailed out and sat on a picture of Nathaniel and Bart Holland.

"Nat."

Even with all the crazy things Mikaela had seen this boy do, she was still surprised.

"Yeah that's him," the girl confirmed, "How'd you know?"

"Lost," Even turned from the picture to her.

"Well, Bart might be- that's his best friend. I heard from Dad that his parents called over here to find out where he is. I guess they're worried he ran off? But-"

"Lost," the child repeated more forcefully.

"No-no. Nat's not lost. He's just not home today."

The others eyes did not look convinced. And for a moment of silence Mikaela's next words hung unsaid.

He was able to find Will's picture among her photo of all four of the girls. He was able to find Nat's and name him.

He was able to channel Will's voice singing from wherever she was 'hiding' at.

"B-ar-t?"

Denial wanted to quickly say that it was nothing. The reply still hung with Mikaela's hanging mouth.

And then the girl had spun away and ran downstairs.

"Mom!" Mikaela slid around the corner to the kitchen and living room, and stopped short when she saw Dora Wheeler. "Where's Nat?"

"Kade! Where's Nathaniel?" Dora shouted. The muted yell of a response didn't offer a concrete location.

"Don't you know?" the woman turned her sleepy gaze at her daughter, "Your brother doesn't live here anymore."

Mikaela's mouth hung open for a second time that day as her brain tried to catch up with her words.

And all the while, her stomach roiled downwards.

* * *

From behind the glass, Brenner watched as the brave recruit pushed into the alien sheen.

It was a monumental moment.

There had been so many of those lately. The novelty was beginning to wear off.

But it hadn't fully yet. Brenner had made sure to make that clear to the volunteer. Told him "good luck in there son" and watched him go.

It was pride. That was what she believed.

Shepard disappeared from view. His voice filtered through the static. As did something elses.

That was the sound 011 had heard in the pool. The experiments panic made more sense when she got the chance to hear the guttural voice.

Their man was screaming to be returned. The deep chirping rose to a loud growl. The two voices joined in a variegated call of terror and hunt.

"Reel him in."

She gave the command and yet no one moved. The other scientists merely stayed frozen in their spots, fascinated or anxious, who knew, who cared; what mattered was how slow they were.

How simple.

Frozen as if staying put would get their man back safely. There should have been immediate action. There should have been scurrying to reel Shepard back the moment she had thought that command, let alone gave it. And still, the brightest this team had to offer sat like idiots with their mouths hanging open waiting oblivious to the outside world.

"Reel him in!" Brenner turned on them, letting herself yell, letting spittle hit the glass of her helmet, and finally watching as they jerked from their stupidity into action.

Too little.

Too late.

Quick instincts were an important quality. Even if the departments experiments were rebellious, they acted quickly. And when they did they were rewarded.

Slow instincts grated Brenner's nerves. Those that sat and listened to an atrocity happening while their actions, if they just had any, could stop the tragedy were an offense to humanity.

And even if they couldn't think for themselves, they could at least listen to commands. To sit by idly instead of immediate action was, if anything, even more disappointing to watch.

With these, the men that let Shepard die, as her officers was it any wonder 011 hadn't been retrieved yet?

Brenner's fists uncurled beneath their gloves as she watched the bloody cable be carried through the protective gate. She directed it towards the hall and followed it. The bio labs above could search through the various gore on the cable in the hopes that they could find the aliens fluid as well as Shepherd's.

If they did, well. That was one success. One behind a disappointing amount of failures.

* * *

Hop stayed in the lobby long enough to hear yet another piece of this ever building puzzle.

It wasn't as if she had anything else to do. She was already late to work. Over four hours late. She'd called in early that morning from the phone in the Byers' kitchen (and eyed the two laying on the ground by it with their burnt receivers). Forest wasn't going to be happy.

But he had understood.

It wasn't how things would've operated in the big city. But this wasn't the city. This was Hawkins.

This was a community. They looked out for each other.

And after he'd heard about the _gun_, Forest had understood why Hop felt the need to stay the night in the Byers driveway.

With the missing kid turned up dead, the chief was likely reeling from the workload of the week and feeling disappointment over how futile their searches; the working theory was that Willow had died the night of her disappearance after all.

She had driven the two Byers over. Neither John or the teen girl, Johanna, were in any shape to be driving themselves.

Which meant she'd be driving them back.

Which meant she had to wait for them.

And that wait was stretching irritatingly long.

Hop sighed loudly and let her head hit the wall behind her. The woman behind the desk noticed and looked up.

"What's taking so long?" Hop asked and damned if a bit of her frustration seeped into her tone.

The morgue worker sighed as well.

"Well, everything's been a bit chaotic around here without Gary-"

And just like that, Hop felt alert once more. She slid up in her seat.

"Where's Gary?"

Patty paused in her organizing of papers. "Well, those men from State, they sent Gary home last night."

The men from State.

The ones that found the body.

_Where was the footage of the night of the seventh?_

"So who did the autopsy?" she asked.

She should've predicted the answer. Truth be told, she did.

Cold dread fell over her.

The door opened but only one Byers came out. Johanna stepped into the lobby and blinked for a moment. She looked lost; just standing there. No place in the morgue.

Really, no place anywhere.

Hop motioned for the kid to join her. Spoke quietly back and forth with her for a few minutes.

That morning before John had woke up, they'd already talked. Hop had asked how her dad had been doing.

_"How long's this stuff been going on? With the lights and, uh...Willow and the thing in the wall?"_

Since that first evening. That first phone call.

_She'd eyed the two phones laying on the ground by it with their burnt receivers._

_Why were they burnt when the storm had only been one night?_

Johanna admitted to her fathers anxiety problems. Problems Hop remembered from the way he shook when he took a cigarette from her. But problems that had seemingly disappeared by the time he came back from the war. She hadn't seen much of him after that.

_"He'll be okay."_

The girl hadn't met her eyes but she seemed to smile under all that hair.

_"Yeah," she'd nodded, "We'll be okay. My dad...he's tough."_

Little grins under the bleachers. The way they'd run when they were busted. John would laughed afterwards. Just laugh and laugh. His mother's death no longer haunting him- still there, never forgotten, but not important during the moment while they ran from certain detention in the form of angry teachers.

_"Yeah. He is. Hey." Johanna had almost made eye contact there. It was enough. "He is."_

A slam interrupted her train of thought. Out from the hall stormed her other passenger; John looked angry and stomped quickly towards the door. On his heels was the protesting coroner and the man spun on his heels to yell down at woman.

"I don't know what you think-think that th-THING is, but it is NOT my daughter!"

Hop rose up just as quickly as Johanna. The girl ran out and she followed quickly. Watched the two Byers break down. Watched Jon march away after declaring that he was "not gonna stop looking for her until I find her and bring her home".

How often had she wished she could do just that to Sam?

But Sam-

His case had been clear.

Willow Byers's was obscured and messy.

"Hey-" Hop reached out and took Johanna by one tense arm. "Do you need a ride back to your house?"

The teen shook her head and mumbled that she could find another way back.

"Look after him."

Unsaid were the words behind the teens eyes-

he needs it more.

* * *

The headphones blocked out the extra noise. Johanna lay on the couch with music playing loudly into both ears. Her face was scrunched up in misery. Her eyes were shut tight and her hands kept brushing them free of the stinging saline.

She had wanted to go to her room to lay on her bed and shut off. After writing up a loan for a coffin and paying a coworker for a ride home Johanna wanted to shut off from the world more then anything.

But her bed was in her bedroom.

And her bedroom was right across from Willows.

And Willow's would never be occupied by her sister again.

Johanna had crashed on the couch instead. Her father still wasn't back. She wished he was. She was glad he wasn't.

The headphones were thrown off and replaced by her bedroom's stereo. The teen curled on the couch next to the device.

Her body was so exhausted she felt like she could sleep already.

But her mind was so empty she didn't feel like she could ever sleep again.

The tape changed songs. The Clash came on.

Slowly, Johanna began to come back to reality.

Because in front of the couch, the wall was pounding.

* * *

John Byers was resting in an office chair behind the partitions for Powell and Callahan. The station was quiet today. It was almost like it used to be. Before Willow Byers went missing, Beth Hammond shot herself, and two teens that never played hookey were reported by their parents and a Stephanie Harrington to be missing.

Hop had gotten permission to dump her passenger off in the quiet building while she tried to catch up on work.

And then she had knocked on the chiefs door and entered the room at his admittance.

Now she stood stiffly in his office. Forest's hair was unkept and his head kept nodding down into his hands. Still he was working. Diligent cop, that one.

"Chief," she said bluntly open entering, "Who owns the quarry they found the body in?"

Forest didn't look up from where he was resting his face in his hands.

"Frank Sattler. Runs a few operations. The quarry is on Sattler Company property."

She digested the news. Moved to say a quick thank you and get back to work. Forest interrupted that chance.

"Jane," he waved for her to take a seat and peaked through his hands; the action revealed tired red eyes. "Tell me what's bothering you."

Hop fidgeted with the hat in her lap.

"The Byers case. Something's not right about it."

"No." The chief sighed and then his face was covered in his hands once more. "Something is not. I'll cut to the chase then; have you found anything?"

"Chief?" Her tone came out more confused than she would've liked.

"Officially the case is closed," Forest explained, "The girl was found dead. End of story. Unofficially, there are far too many loose ends to make me feel good about this all. Too much happened all at once. I can't help but feel it's connected. So I wondered if you'd seen any of those connections."

Oh.

"Gary didn't do the autopsy," she blurted out. That earned his gaze again; if it was possible for eyes that tired to look shocked, they did.

"Who did?" the chief asked.

"Some guys from state," Hop answered. "Just like some guys from state found the body in the quarry while on patrol. Through private company property, not state patrol property."

The sound of a sharp breath greeted her. She was struck by the thought that she wouldn't get another chance like this. The bag at her side was lifted and the notebook was taken out.

"I went digging at the library after hours last night," she continued on unprompted, "The director at the lab? Brenner? She was implicated in a CIA research fiasco years ago: MK Ultra. But she's still working for the government. Working at a lab that hid their video files of the 7th from us. And she and the others implicated have plenty of complaints against them. This one man, Terry Ives, he says his child was stolen by them-"

"Terry Ives was discredited," Forest shook his head, "His claim got thrown out. Powell brought that story back for me yesterday."

Which was true. But it still didn't sit right with her.

"I'm not saying there's some grand conspiracy," Hop sighed in frustration and fell silent a moment. "I'm just. I'm saying maybe something happened. Something the lab had to hide from you yesterday. Maybe the Byers girl was in the wrong place at the wrong time?"

Red rimmed eyes were looking through fingers. That was a good sign. He was listening.

"And she saw something that she shouldn't have?"

"I'll have Gary come in but you've got to see it's a bit of a reach-"

"It's a start," Hop said seriously. And there Forest's mouth twitched down and his head cringed away.

"We hit the end already," the chief replied quietly, "We're not recovering the kid."

She let out a shaky exhale and stared him down.

"But we could discover the culprits."

* * *

They made an inconspicuous enough team. Just a woman in a pair of blue jeans and ratty coat marching alongside a tall man with worried eyes and the seconds apart habit of running a hand through his beard compulsively.

They didn't draw any eyes.

John offered a nervous smile and stuttered his way through some excuse about a forgotten hat that Patty bought without much care. Just waved them through.

They drew their first eyes outside the room itself. The guard glared up at them from his book. Jane Hopper offered a fabricated grin and tried to instill an air of affability among the three by talking about said book.

The state worker didn't buy it.

"You can't be back here-"

So distraction only carried them so far. Hop could do plan B.

"Yeah we just got off the line with O'Bannon," she spouted the name of the trooper that had been interviewed on TV earlier in the day, "Says he needs you at the station. It's some kinda emergency-"

"The hell you talking about?" the guard frowned. His hand crawled towards the weapon at his hip. After declaring that he didn't work for O'Bannon, Hop took a calm step back and smacked her lips in a repeated "okay."

John saw the message. After a shuffle and grunts on both ends, the state trooper was a groaning puddle on the floor and the father and secretary stepped over him to enter the room beyond.

The morgue was only lit from the cracks between the blinds covering the hall windows. That was remedied by a flashlight and the two adults crept in.

The body was covered in a sheet. John felt sick as he touched the corner of it. The nausea kept him from lifting it free for a few seconds he took to breath. Then he steeled his nerves.

This wasn't his daughter.

He knew that since he'd watched the coroner earlier that day.

Lifting the sheet would show someone like his daughter.

But it wouldn't be her. Because she was alive. Because he was going to find her.

The sheet was torn away.

In the dim lighting, the pasty skin of the little body looked upwards. Blue veins caked the skin and the parted lips were the same deathly shade.

It wasn't her-

It wasn't her-

It wasn't-

"Hey," Hop was suddenly there, close, looking up with that slight frown of hers that meant she was concentrating. "Maybe you should step back."

He nodded instead of speaking. His mouth felt too dry to try.

From the table with the abomination that looked like his daughter's corpse, the woman spoke up again.

"You got a knife?"

Despite himself, despite the mantra that it was fake, despite the proclamations he'd spouted all day that it was, John shuddered. Then he fumbled with his coat and brought his switchblade forward.

There was a quiet while Hop fiddled with it. John looked towards the white lines that were the closed blinds and breathed.

There was a soft thunk. John flinched and felt bile crawl up his throat.

But it wasn't the right sound. It wasn't the right sound. He knew from experience that, as awful as that noise was, it wasn't what a body sounded like to stab.

"John."

Hop's voice was unreadable. It made him nervous.

"Come see this."

With another shaky breath, John turned at the beckon and approached the-the-

Fake.

White stuffing fluffed out from where Hop had pulled it free.

Oh it had been lifelike. The 'skin' was an inch thick to keep suspicion away from a keen observer.

But the blade tore through the lies.

And John felt a giddy hope and vindictiveness rise at the sight of the torn mannequin and its stuffing.

It wasn't her-

She was alive.

Both adults looked up from the fake to each other.

The message was clear before they even spoke in unison:

"Now what?"

* * *

_AN- The song Steph messes around to is Journey's Who's Crying Now and it was released in 1981._  
_The song cut off by Tammy is Foreigner's Waiting For A Girl Like You, which plays in the show itself during S1 E3._  
_Hop is still Hopper and canon Hopper in season 1 is a mess: he drinks a lot, takes meds, smokes, and really sleeps around while giving the impression that he doesn't go back for a second date often. This behavior seems to steep off as he gets involved in the Will Byers case and starts doing things like...breaking into the morgue or Hawkins Lab lets say and it seems to have massively improved after adopting El (the drinking/smoking and anger issues still remain because those are very hard habits to kick)_


	5. The Flea and the Acrobat

When you played by those rules, no one got hurt. No one ever had to see that there was any other part of the rope you could move on.  
There were no worries about what sort of acrobat, friendly or not, prowled on the other side of the rope.

_AN- Extra long chapter means extra many mistakes- once again, if you see any of the inevitable errors please point them out. This is unbeta'd but I'm a perfectionist and would like very much to fix any errors_  
_Also fair warning, emotional abuse is very present in this chapter. The intro is from Brenner so that should give a good idea of what's in here_

_As a side note, remember the song (Elegia) that plays during the funeral scene? I may or may not have listened to it on repeat for five hours while writing the bulk of this chapter_

* * *

_It was drawn in crayons._

_The picture was nothing impressive at all. Far from it, truly._

_It was drawn on a piece of plain white stock paper._

_Most of the picture itself was just that white. Sticking out from it were two figures, a table with a poorly scrawled cat, and one written word._

_Mama._

_Besides the word were two straightly drawn lines: 11._

_The only question it left Brenner with was: Why the cat?_

_The cat had been the first animal she'd tried to get 011 to kill. It had been a moment of rebelling disobedience when the experiment had refused. She'd ordered he be taken away when he had, in a fit against the guards, proved that he could kill animals with that mind of his._

_A powerful, powerful, beautiful mind._

_But definitely not an artists mind; that was alright. Art wasn't what this experiment had been created for. Brenner reached out a finger and tapped the paper almost playfully._

_No, it most certainly had not been._

* * *

_Was it any surprise the Soviet Union has sent Valentina Tereshkova into space and then set her up with another of their cosmonauts? They wanted to see the effects of extraplanetary travel on reproduction; they wanted to see what the union between Tereshkova and Andriyan Nikolayev produced. What the children of two cosmonauts would be like; if they would be born already more capable of gravity free life._

_The members of Project MK Ultra had hit a roadblock but they still had been morphed into something the average human would be unable to understand. Gottilieb told many lower levels of government intel that the experiments were "useless"- but Brenner knew that claim was nothing but a cover. Her branch had made progress._

_Her experimental subjects were able to completely eliminate their sensory ability and by their own words were able to feel completely transported to an astral body of sorts._

_A few were able to correctly sense a researchers thought or emotion. That wasn't exactly what the Project wanted. The Project was intended to find methods of mind control to use in interrogations. But this branch had taken a different turn after hearing the subjects claim correctly they'd heard another's thoughts as they sprung from the sensory deprivation tanks._

_Mind control would be useful when interrogating a captive._

_But mind reading could eliminate the need for interrogation altogether._

_Now that the adults were seemingly unable to progress, they'd started with this new plan. They made suggestible, drug-filled subjects believe they had attachments and bonds with each other. Specific subjects were set together with other subjects of their mental caliber._

_The Soviets could try all they wanted at making children born genetically ready for space._

_Brenner would have children far more susceptible to mental aptitude, emotional suggestibility, and, dare she say it, psychic ability._

* * *

_Terry Ives held potential. But that potential had reached its end._

_He just hadn't realized it yet._

_Brenner slid down to sit by the man. He was dressed in sweats instead of one of the hospital gowns or bath suits. One of the quirks she noticed about Terry was how he didn't seem to notice what he was wearing anymore. At first, sure. At first all of them were bumbling and uncomfortable and awkward in the sensory deprivation suits and the pant-free gowns._

_But months of drugs had freed his mind from caring about tight rubber or breezy legs. There was no blushing amongst the subjects now when they wore what was required of them._

_Terry hadn't realized what his purpose here was; he still thought he was one of the subjects for experiment. Not quite though- now the experiment had moved on to the potential progenies of the current test subjects. And Terry Ives had been chosen weeks ago by Brenner and a few others to participate unknowingly in this next step._

_The man was smiling dopily. It was a facial structure Brenner returned for his sake. The guards Terry should've had on himself, his mind, his emotions- all had been chipped away by now._

_He had yet to catch onto that fact._

_"I went in the tank again today," Terry told her. As if Brenner didn't already know. As if she didn't know every single event and word that happened in this place._

_She prompted him for more instead of revealing to him that anything he said was pointless._

_"I'm telling you- it's wonderful. It's this kind of just...peace. Like-like you're floating in blackness. Just a speck among the universe and it presses in on you while also being this untouchable expanse…"_

_Some of the other subjects had said something similar. None could do any more than reach that point of 'blackness' or catch wind of the occasional thought._

_"The lab technician... Mel? Yeah, Mel, I saw the name in his head. He was thinking really loudly- isn't that strange? Being able to say a thought is loud? It's-it's awesome because it's not. Not what I should be able to do. Humans shouldn't be able to."_

_"Oh?" the scientist schooled her mouth into a smirk and watched the man blush._

_He was putty. Pliable in any direction she told him to go._

_It had taken months to get to this point._

_The rewards would pay off that time._

_"I don't even feel human when I'm floating in there after the injections. I feel…"_

_If it didn't run the risk of turning her brain into mush, Brenner would try it. Try the lsd and drop herself in the dark water. See what it was like to feel inhuman._

_Hah. She was pretty sure she already knew what that felt like._

_"I feel like more. And sometimes, I feel like there's more out there. More of me-people, or creatures or plants or energy or aliens or whatever- sometimes it's like I can touch them. I can feel their presence touching me. Little flickers of light tapping each other. Boop."_

_She continued to smile even as she shook her head at every drug induced new age nonsense he was spouting while tapping her shoulder and rocking back from the action with another blushing peal of laughter._

_"They don't feel like me. Maybe they're the other patients in their tanks. Or maybe its some being out floating in our sea or space."_  
_Or maybe it's the hallucinogens. Maybe the drugs are the only energy you feel._

_"Isn't-isn't it just fascinating?"_

_"Mhm," Brenner nodded, "Why else would I be running this?_

_"Oh Marta," that grin remained wide as the man leaned his head back against his crossed arms. "It's incredible. I really do wish you could feel it."_

_Who knew if he meant the drugs or the emptiness of the tub or the attachment he felt towards the projects director. It didn't matter._

_Brenner couldn't feel any of those._

* * *

_The room was sterile. Simplistic. There was nothing wrong with simplicity. Even if it manifested in as cold a room as this._

_Brenner eased herself onto the bed and looked over to where the experiment was hugging his legs to his chest. Such a frail body. Such a powerful mind._

_She'd wondered for many years now what it would be like to have that mind. The one that Terry Ives spoke of having, before she sent him into his current catatonic state when he became troublesome. The one that filtered words through radio and caused electricity itself to short out._

_It was more than just what drugs could do to a mind's perception._

_It had become a journey to see what a mind could do to the reality outside it._

_And the answers were fascinating._

_A mind could break another's body._

_It could expand itself with such strain that the human built technology strained likewise._

_A mere human mind could do anything it imagined, it seemed. This boy's mind could._

_Incredible._

_"How far mama?"_

_Across a continent. Across a sea. So far, in fact, that the department were all on edge that it would fail._

_She slid the photo from its folder and let the psychic have a look at the grainy man it contained. He didn't blink or flinch but his voice wavered as it guessed the bath would be involved._

_"Yes," Brenner set the photo aside and crossed her legs in order to rest her now free hands on her lap and turn to face him. "The bath."_

_"Is that okay?" she asked softly._

_It was the coup de grâce. His answer didn't matter; it never did. But she knew what it would be long before he said it._

_She knew because she had asked. Because she had given the impression that it was his choice._

_Because she had given a hint of a smile and let it hang in the air; his answer meant his compliance. His compliance meant no punishment. His acceptance meant reward._

_"Okay," the child choked out softly._

_Brenner gave him the full smile._

* * *

_The speaker fizzled out barely comprehensible russian. It filtered through the devices static and carried interference of its own. They had said before, during the first few times they had tried this, that it sounded like words coming from under the water._

_Perhaps that had something to do with the tank. There were certainly a few running theories that explained the strange interference._

_They stood behind the glass and shared glances up at the speaker, out towards the tank, and down towards the multicolored buttons and tabs on the keyboards._

_Enough of the russian was understandable to Brenner that she kept her attention on the PA. The official translators recorded the session and sent it to the CIA officials that they worked under._

_It was routine._

_The garbled words fell away. A new noise took their place._

_A noise they had never heard before._

_Over the interference of the speaker was a low snarl. It was no russian speaking._

_It was no human at all._

-"Little flickers of light tapping each other"-

_The growl faded into a distorted warble._

_Herman sounded breathless from behind her; breathless, scared._

_"What is that?"_

_The warble trilled._

-"I feel like more. And sometimes, I feel like there's more out there."-

_Maybe they hadn't been the only ones to discover this ability of the human mind. Maybe the russians had their own psychic experiments._

_But this didn't sound like a russian._

_Russians, psychics or not, couldn't make what had once again turned into a deep growl._

_"I have no idea," Brenner admitted distantly. Her eyes had yet to stare away from the PA. Her attention had yet to move away from this sound none of them had ever heard before._

_Was it translatable? It resembled an animals growl but-yet-_

_There was_ intelligence _behind it. She swore it._

_Whatever was making that alien sound was reaching out. Reaching across the astral world that her experiments could enter but she could only hear through a PA._

_011 was screaming. His voice was still muffled and indistinct across the speaker but was far louder than whatever the snarl belonged to. Its noise faded like the russians words had._

_It was gone. It was something new, undiscovered, fascinating- and it was out of her reach now. Brenner could only hear it through the speaker. 011 was the only enhanced human experiment the lab had left. He was the only one who could interact with the snarl._

-"I really do wish you could feel it."-

_The technicians were helping the sobbing child out of the tank now. The PA lay silent. Brenner's only hope for hearing that voice again lay in that child's mind._

_The other branches wouldn't believe it. Not at first. But they had the recording._

_And, with another set of rewards, they'd have far more than that._

_They'd have first contact._

_He'd been a dreamy, drugged up fool. But Terry Ives was right even if he hadn't known what he'd been talking about._

_There was something else out there capable of entering the mental realm the project's psychics could._

* * *

It was-it was-it was-

The stereo was clanging. Clanging with every pound on the wall. Every pound of her heart.

Johanna's breath was gone gone gone and she couldn't think through the lack of air, through the pain in her chest that twisted and turned and-

Clang-

_Slam_-

The wallpaper seemed to bulge.

Oh. The room seemed to tilt. All Johanna could summon to her mind was her dad- her dad's face, her dad smiling, her dad protesting that he wasn't just seeing things-

_(I'm losing it oh my God I'm losing it too)_

Her dad was seeing things, hearing things; and now here she was hearing and seeing things too.

_(it was the funeral wasn't it? the funeral knocked her over this edge)_

_(breathe I need to breathe)_

Clang-

Johanna clutched her hands to her head and screamed. And then she lunged stumbling for the stereo and turned The Clash off.

_(Willow's favorite song, that's probably why this happened now)_

It-it could be over now. The song was gone. Johanna took in a shuddering breath and slowly let her arms move down. She felt herself thinking of her dad again- she grateful he wasn't here. He hadn't seen her break down.

_Slam-_

It wasn't gone-it wasn't over-why?

_(is this the hole, miss Hopper?)_

And then a new sound filtered through.

A whimpering. Like a child's. And the slamming sounded like a muted sort of knocking.

Despite her minds protests, Johanna slowly approached the wall. _The_ wall.

And even through the thoughts racing to and fro in her head, contradicting each other and screaming for attention she didn't want to give, she could hear the echoing sound of-

_"D-a-d"_

The legs underneath her liquidated. It was her. It was her.

_(you just saw the body today you can't really believe you're hearing her)_

"Sis?" Johanna gasped.

There was more of that clanging- and heavy breathing from far away. Like she was hearing it all over a radio or a bad phone. Like some electrical communication was in front of her instead of solid wallpaper.

_" J-o ?"_

"Will!" she slammed her hands on the wall.

_(it was solid, why did she think it'd be anything else?)_

Her sister's voice kept drifting through. And again, Johanna failed listen to her minds protests. Because Willow was there- just beyond the wall. So she ran for the door, ripped it open, and saw-

Nothing. No one was there on the other side of it.

_(just like there was no faceless man that ripped the obviously intact wallpaper apart)_

The bright sunlight glared at her eyes. Her dad had kept the curtains shut in the main room of the house in order to see the christmas lights better. Out here was too bright.

Too real.

In there was dark, and strung with lunacy, and her sisters voice was calling from beyond the wall when she wasn't standing outside it.

Johanna found herself back in the house. Found herself in front of the wall. Fell against it. Felt herself coughing and choking and wetness on her face on her arms when she wiped her mind blank and too full all at once and-

_"Jo?"_

The breath caught in her throat and then escaped as a strangled sound.

"Oh-h no, no, no, no," her legs went up until her head was bent between her knees and both sets of limbs crushed it.

_"Da-d? Johan-na?"_

Her head shot out of her legs and arms; it hit the wall behind her. (Not the wall with the noises, that one was pounding next to her left side)

She had to stay strong. She had to stay strong for her dad. She couldn't surrender to madness. Not even when...not even when it offered her this- offered her sisters voice again…

It sounded so lifelike.

_"H-ell-o? J-o?"_

She had to-

_(so real)_

She had to-

_(so alive)_

Johanna's left hand shot out to the wall and her fingernails sunk into the wallpaper.

"I'm here!" she replied to the voice. "I'm here!"

Something pulsed under her nails

_(like her own heartbeat, pumping so hard from this it pulsed through her fingertips)_

and Johanna felt herself pull away from it. The action tore little lines through the once intact wallpaper.

Left little pink lines behind. They pulsed with light plainly visible in the dark room.

Johanna felt bile rise to her throat.

_"Jo?"_

The temptation to scratch away more grew. To tear away cathartically, to stab through that pink sheen, dig through it until the voice could be heard without the muted echo.

Tear it-

_(don't you dare go any further)_

Screw the bile and revulsion, she'd dig through this pulsing thing until she found her-

_(I'm supposed to stay strong)_

Her fingers found the wall again and touched the lines. It pulsed outward in revolting response. Like liquid. Soft and warm. It froze her fingertips.

Johanna felt her face screw up and then she pressed forward and ripped. The paper fell towards her crouched position. It drifted to her legs and felt so stale. So lifeless.

So unlike the cold softness under her hands.

_(like her sister really was, lifeless on a morgue table)_

The glow continued to pulse. Now that she had torn more paper away, Johanna thought she could see shapes through the congealed shade.

Two of the shapes looked like feet.

Those 'feet' shifted, like the body they belonged to was turning and then turned back.

And then came a new sound-

It rumbled through her frayed nerves.

_"Jo, it-s comi-ng! I -t's co-m-ing!"_

A snarl unlike anything Chester or any other animal Johanna had ever seen made.

_"She's in danger! It's after her! We have to find her-_

_Some... thing tried to crawl out of it. Johanna, it was moving outward and I heard-I heard the noise from the phone-_

_-almost human, but it wasn't. It-it had these long arms, these bony arms, and it...It didn't have a face"-_

"Will? Where are you?" she yelled at the little feet shapes. "How can we find you? Will?"

The growl chittered again. Goosebumps rippled down her arms and back and-

It was all too _much_. So much stimuli. So much emotion.

So much hope.

So much _fear_.

_"It-s like h-ome but i -t's so dar-k! It-s so d-ark an-d emp-ty and it-s co-ld!"_

The fear was in her sisters voice too. It was quivering.

_"She's in danger! It's after her!"_

Johanna couldn't let whatever that growl belong to get to the voice. She would hear that voice screaming, hurting, dying, all the while she pound on pulsing cold gel helplessly.

_(all this time helpless- helpless to save Willow from going over the quarry cliff, helpless to save dad from hallucinations, helpless to stop grief from erasing sanity)_

_(helpless to hear a monster get her sister's voice)_

It was cold under her hands as they lay flattened on the pink sheen. A sheen that was growing lifeless under her palms. The color and lights and shadows were fading to gray plaster that crawled-

The snarl turned into a chirping and Johanna felt her blood run cold at the sound-

At the _feeling-_

_(it was coming for Willow but it was coming for her too)_

"Listen! Dad-dad, he's coming for you!"

And he was. He hadn't listened to anyone. Not the morgue technicians. Not the police. Not Jane Hopper.

Not his daughter.

He wouldn't stop looking. He wouldn't rest as long as he could hear that voice in the walls of their house.

_"b-ut-"_

"Listen!" Johanna cut the voice off with another slam of her palms against the remaining alien wall. "He's-"

But it wouldn't just be him would it?

"-We-we're going to find you. You hear me sis? We'll find you but-but-"

The echo of a deeper growl rang muted in her ears.

"You need to hide-" she commanded. The feet were barely visible; the glistening wall was almost completely replaced by plaster

_(by reality )_

and her eyes were blurring.

"You need to hide from-from what's coming, you need to be-"

Her breath caught, but the growl was nighly muted and the pink was almost gone. She had to finish.

"Be-be safe. I -we-love you."

Then the feet were gone.

The pulsing coldness was gone.

Torn wallpaper hung down and in its ruined place was lifeless gray plaster.

Be safe. Be safe. Be safe.

I love you so take care of yourself.

Please.

It was all she could do.

It was all she wished she could've said if it was still the previous Sunday and Johanna was still dropping her sister and her bike off at the Wheeler's house.

* * *

_"Nothing is happening-"_

_"Our power just cut out. Henry was at a loss of what to-"_

Hawkins National Laboratory's fence covered a good square of land. The front gate was the only entrance built into the fence; the rest of it was surrounded by thick woods.

_"The television was staticky, we couldn't even watch one-"_

_"You know who you sound like? That one quack, who was she again? Murray, that's the name-"_

Well, there was only one entrance built into it. But there was soon to be two.

_"Believe me Jane, I appreciate your ability to research. But there isn't concrete evidence against that lab. And even if there was, do you really think you or I could do anything against the federal government's own laboratory?"_

Hop shut her car off and threw the trunk open. A second later and she was hefting a large bolt cutter out into the night air.

_"The gun should be there. I can't say for the door and the wall but the gu-"_

What she was considering was illegal as hell. And who knew what this lab, the one she'd grown to despise so much even before cutting that fake body (the one intended to convince that family that their girl was dead without one seconds care of what happens to a family when they had a child die) open, would do if they found a trespasser.

_"Enough with the conspiracy, we're busy here. You want to spout your crazy-"_

The shears made quick work of the federal fencing. A minute after and the pliers were back in the silent car while the woman pushed past the cut wires with a vindicated smile none could see in the darkness.

* * *

"Here," Lonni pushed the glass into her hands. Johanna barely managed to hold it

_(don't go dropping that, dad'll be upset to have to buy a new one)_

through her shaking. It was too bright in the living room; her mom had thrown open the closed curtains. The light hurt her eyes. The light was cold, wintery, unforgiving sunlight; not awful, pulsating, dim phosphorescence that came with her sister's voice.

Her mom's form slid right next to her on the couch. She wished she wasn't so close to her. The proximity made her uneasy. Not because it was her mom. Anyone sitting that close made her uncomfortable

_(not Willow)_

and uneasy. Even her parents.

Johanna wondered where her father was. Wondered if he and Lonni would fight when they interacted. Hoped they wouldn't. Their fights were always loud and made her miserable to hear unavoidably even with music playing loudly.

It wasn't even their volume that made it so unavoidable.

It was their emotions and her sisters and hers and the whole house would be a wreck of misery and bitterness and a child's dream for parents splintering before their eyes-

"It'll calm your nerves," her mom brought her thoughts back to the room. The bright room. The messy room. Lonni had pulled free some of the lights and lay on the coffee table in tangled bundles. The ripped wallpaper was taped back to the solid wall with tacky gray duct tape, also courtesy of her mom.

She'd come in only ten minutes after the... _event_. It felt surreal now. The house felt cold and empty and certainly not like it had during that-that-

_(breakdown)_

breakdown? Her dad hadn't been there for it. No one had. Except possibly Willow-

No. She had to stop thinking that way. She had to stay strong. She had to-

to-

to-

to-

Lonni's arm was pulling her close. For a moment Johanna basked in it. Her distaste for physical closeness was outweighed by the fact that it was her mom. It was her mom, despite everything, despite the fights, despite the manipulations of Will, despite-

She was wearing a sweater under her brown leather jacket. It itched at Johanna's face. The teen didn't move away.

"There," Lonni's voice was saying from above her, "Try to relax."

Johanna wanted to do nothing more. She wanted to collapse on this couch while her mother held her and eventually her father returned and joined and she never would move again never never-

But she couldn't. Because she'd made a promise.

She'd told Willow she'd find her.

"N-no, mom, I've got, I've got to," she pulled herself up and saw it in her mom's eyes. Saw the concern behind the laziness.

Hated it. Craved it.

_(what would dad say when he found out Lonni was here?)_

"Gotta what?" Lonni offered a sad smile. "You already set up the funeral. Your dad's off who knows where. Just sit here. Drink. What else is there to do?"

Johanna gave no response. She didn't want her mom to call her crazy. Didn't want her to pour anymore of the bitter drink for her in effort to ward off what was no doubt waking dreams.

So she swirled her cup and drank. The dry feeling in her mouth was distracting. Johanna let her mind drift to the sensation until she felt nothing else.

Less than a mile away, another teen had also zoned out the sounds of her house. Stephanie Harrington's attention was on the scrap of photo she was turning in her hand as she thought. When the gray image was turned towards the ceiling once more, the teen looked down at it and unconsciously let her frown grow.

* * *

The station was dark by the time John drove up and parked his car. For a moment, the man wondered if he should leave, go home, forget about this venture.

The next and he was opening the back door of his station wagon. The car light came on automatically at the door and illuminated the thing laying on the back seats.

Stuffing had spilt from it to the floor. A blanket was covering the form itself but some of the white fluff had fallen from where it matted in a thick pile from the sliced open trunk. John leaned in and pulled the thing into his arms; he made sure the blanket was wrapped around the fake and covered it completely as he carried it into the station.

The secretary partition was empty; its desk was scattered and cluttered with papers, a typewriter, phones, cords. At another desk, one of the officers opened his eyes to see John's entrance. He offered the man a guilty expression of false innocence. With the bundle in his arms and the hour of the evening, he made, without a doubt, a strange sight.

The cops eyebrow lifted and then his eyes rolled back uncaringly and he had dropped his head back again.

Good. The less that saw this, the better. Jane expected that the lab was willing to dirty their hands. She predicted that Beth Hammond hadn't killed herself and her reasoning for it was convincing enough to John when he had stood taking in the fake body of his missing daughter.

Jane was off confirming her theories now. John was sent to the station and then to the next destination the two had chosen.

The frozen form in his arms was proof that Hawkins lab was willing to go to all sorts of measures to cover up... _something_. The worry that built and spiked inside of him made his thoughts circle back to the unexpected partner in crime he'd allied with; he hoped she would be safe at the lab.

He hoped he didn't have to see her corpse, stuffing filled or not.

The door under his full hands pushed open and John slid inside the little office. Forest Renca was already packing his desk when the newcomer entered without so much as a knock.

It was rather hard to knock with both hands full of faux cadaver.

"Oh. John. I wasn't expecting to see you back tonight. I had Gary come in as requested but then-"

John dropped the grizzly prize onto the tidied desk.

"Wh-"

The chiefs words were cut off when John pushed the blanket free from the thing wrapped inside. A quick glance up showed the other man looking mesmerized at the sight. Renca's skin was greening.

"Visited the morgue and guess what? I'm presuming that's why they sent Gary away," John pointed for unneeded emphasis at the replica. "Anyone actually doing their job would realize this as the coverup it is as soon as they cut into the 'body'."

Renca sat back down in his seat with a loud thump. His grimace was still directed at the torn open trunk of the fake.

"What-" he licked his lips and managed to tear his focus away from it to stare at John for a second before he stared back. "What are you planning to do now?"

"Bring her home," John answered without a thought. "I'm-I'm going to find my daughter, wherever she is. I'm going to bring her home. The Lab and the thing in my wall and your cops if you get in my way can all go to hell."

"Mr. Byers," Renca folded his hands on the desk and schooled his tone into one of professionalism instead of shocked disgust.

John felt a moment of regret over cursing the mans' department.

"You realize that if those people are willing to not just lie to the police but fake your daughters death so thoroughly, taking their fake body is likely to just get them mad? And they've already shown what they're willing to do when they're upset at a person."

He did. The anxiety spiked again and he clamped down on it. Jane would be fine. Johanna would be fine. Willow would be fine.

He'd die before any of them did.

"Why do you think I'm not showing this to the whole town? Just you and not the other cops?" John answered instead.

The lifelike eyelids of the falsely dead stared their way into him while he looked down at the body and felt worry for the others stirring inside uncontrollably.

* * *

For a government building, there didn't seem to be too much security. But Hop couldn't truly tell in the dark. The square windows of the facility shone light into the night while the disks atop the building turned and beeped but she could see no guards.

Although there wouldn't need to be many. Not when they had cameras to save the time spent on a patrol. Cameras with footage that the lab had kept secret from the police.

Cameras that pointed at spots she'd crept through.

The door opened and two workers in their lab coats walked out into the cold. Hop watched them go as she moved silently to the same door they had exited and caught it before it closed. Neither looked back to see the woman slide into the building.

The inside was similarly quiet. Just wood paneled walls, pale flooring and buzzing lights overhead keeping the corridors the same steady brightness.

Hop made it without running into any others. When the indistinct chatter of two scientists broke the sterile silence of the place, she'd ducked into a bland confrence room and waited on edge for the two to pass.

The buzzing lights grew dimmer down one hall that the police had not been escorted down; they were spaced further apart on the ceiling as they passed from this side of the hall to the side blocked by a zipped plastic door. Hazmat signs stared back at Hop from the plastic in glaring orange and black.

She hadn't come this far expecting it to be safe.

Hop sighed and rolled her head along with her eyes to the side; then she took a deep breath of what clean air there was and unzipped the doorway into who knew what poison.

The halls back here were far less cozy; no more deep brown wood panels, no more inviting doors. There were white tiles on the walls, more white on the floor and more, big surprise, white on the ceiling. Most of the doors were just as blank until the final one, sitting behind an enclave. A nice pair of brown double doors. Hop grabbed the handle and tugged at the rattling lock.

Well shit.

"No," she grunted as the door banged. By its side, she noticed the card reader. A red light glared back tauntingly. Oh, for the love of-

There was a set of clicks behind her. Guns.

"Hands up. Hands. Up."

Lovely.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa," she complied with the command and turned. Not too fast. Not to slow.

Confident. Like she, the lady in a ratty coat and jeans with nothing but a flashlight and old model pistol clipped to her belt, belonged there.

The man in the suit mere feet away didn't seem swayed by the confidence.

"Forget all the cameras, miss?"

Suit wasn't alone. There was a guard by his side. Both had guns. Both were pointed at her.

"Look," Hop's hands were held up and out loosely. Casually. Calmly. "Dr. Brenner asked for me specifically. Okay?"

There wasn't a chance in hell they were; if the guard at the morgue hadn't bought her story there, these two at the lab were even less likely to believe her calm attitude was truly because she was supposed to be there.

But they didn't need to. They just needed to let their guard down a little bit.

Bided her time.

And then, when Suit went for the radio and turned to speak into it, his gun arm dipping down just slightly and his eyes moving away as he spoke into the device, she moved. Threw her entire weight into a punch to the short man's face and felt the ensuing crunch of cheekbone. The other guard didn't fire in the time it took her to strike; her left hand had shot out to push at the wrist holding the weapon. Her right hand smarted and ached from the strike but the adrenaline racing through her let Hop ignore that. Instead of rubbing the bruised knuckles, the hand had shot back to pull John's pistol free from her waistband.

It didn't matter if she wasn't pushing hard on that other man's wrist; all that action was for was to guide him back against the wall and he was doing that pretty well on his own while staring down the pistol's barrel.

The gun slipped free from the surrendering hand and Hop stepped away to pocket it. Then her eyes fell on the card clipped to the guards pocket.

"Mind if I borrow this one?" she asked rhetorically and ripped it free.

The red light turned to green. The lock buzzed as it accepted the card. And finally, Hop's vibrating hand turned the door's handle and let her slip inside.

It slammed and the light from the hall beyond was cut off, leaving her in darkness. There was a window to some sterile room that was dimly lit; it provided the only illumination in the corridor besides the locks little red light.

Her body felt high strung and vibrated with stressed energy. The hand still holding John's gun hurt. It kept sinking in anew with every breath that she was in danger here. This could be her last night alive. And Dan, with his new wife Billeigh and their baby, would never know. Never know how. Her death would just be covered up by the lab. The body buried could be full of stuffing. Never know why. Just a drug overdose. A night speeding while drunk. Some stupid, self inflicted reason as per the usual for the woman who smoked while wearing the bracelet signature of her son's smoke-caused death.

They'd never know. She was trying to find a kid.

She was trying to save that kid.

Hop shook the worry away. Her hand clenched tighter on the gun regardless if the action made the bruises ache.

In a quick motion, she lifted the pistol and shot the lock. It sparked in the darkness- a signal that retreat was not an option anymore.

There was no running from everything.

* * *

"Alright. Alright."

Mikaela paced in the Wheeler's basement. The surly brunette was talking out loud as she had been since they had arrived here.

On the couch was the weirdo, curled up and even more unhappy looking than before. But he may have just been tired.

Poor kid had wiped himself out at school after all. They had to wheel him out of there in a stolen ("borrowed", her own conscious argued back) handicap chair while the rest of the school was preoccupied with the fire alarm.

"What did she mean?" Mikaela asked out loud, "What Willow was saying, what'd it mean? Like home...like home...but dark?" The girl sat down by Even on the couch for a whole ten seconds before rising to pace again.

"And empty," Lucy butted in. The resident skeptic seemed to believe now.

After hearing what they had earlier, who couldn't?

The body they saw meant nothing when they heard Willow's desperate voice talk to what sounded like an even more muted than usual version of her sister's voice.

"Empty and cold," Dusty sighed. Mikaela nodded at the recollection. "Wait, did she say cold?"

The curly haired girl turned to Lucy, who snapped back in worried exasperation: "I don't know. Stupid radio kept going in and out."

The exasperation could hardly be judged. Dusty was just as frustrated over it all. Over all the confusion.

And the nagging sense of danger- Willow's voice had been scared. Scared shitless, if Dusty could describe it any way.

"It's like riddles in the dark," she sighed and let herself fall backwards against the stairs.

Willow would've liked the reference. She'd always loved The Hobbit even more than the rest of them. And it was hard to enjoy the shenanigans of sarcastically outmatched Bilbo Baggins against spiders and dragons and whatnots more than Dusty herself did.

"Like home. Like her house?" Mikaela paused her pacing.

It made no sense.

But none of this did.

So why not?

Lucy leaned forward and pointed at Mikaela.

"Or _maybe_ like Hawkins," she suggested quickly.

From the couch, their fourth spoke up so quietly they almost could've missed it.

"Upside down."

* * *

There were no lights in this set of halls. Hop kept the gun held out and her flashlight pointed alongside the barrel.

"Willow?"

No child's voice answered her. The kid may not even be here-

But where else would she be? The lab had covered up her death. The lab had known details down to the very clothes Willow had been wearing the night she disappeared.

They had to have her. It was the only explanation that made sense.

"Willow Byers!" Hop yelled and heard her own voice echo back.

The dim sound of an alarm was echoing back as well. Hop hurried forward down another corridor.

Her flashlight fell on an open doorway and caught sight of something orange. It was a unique enough flash of color that Hop stopped and went in.

The orange belonged to the fur of a toy; a small lion with shining fake fur. It lay on a spartan bed next to a shelf of cups, towels and hospital gowns. Above the bed was a light- and below the light was a picture.

A poorly drawn picture.

Sam had always drawn rather childishly as well; he'd never grown old enough to improve past stick figures.

This artwork was at that stage as well. Two stick figures, one with the misspelled, crossed out, and then proper spelling for Mama scrawled beside it and one with two short lines drawn where the name of the first had been in relation to this shorter figure.

The small red dot of a camera pointed from the corner of the room onto the plain bed.

Hop licked her lips. Small room. Surveillance. Toy.

It was a child's picture and a child's room. In a heavily guarded lab.

Shit.

The claxon of alarms continued unchanged. Hop made herself move away and down the hall again. She continued to call for Willow Byers, the missing child who was not currently inside the room where this lab evidently kept a kid.

All the halls in the hazmat zone were dark and she worried that she was getting turned around.

But the sight of an elevator ruined that chance. She hadn't found an elevator yet so she hadn't circled back to where the agents were waiting for her.

Speaking of-

The yells were getting closer. Hop slammed her hand with the flashlight into the elevator button. And repeated the action neurotically. They were almost here-

_Whoomph._

The freight doors slid open; first in one half and then the second doors carved apart in another half. Before the second had even opened fully, Hop had ducked inside and began to slam the down button of the elevator.

"I see her! Hey! Stop!"

Not a chance.

She spun to face the agents and saw on their vague shapes and the brightness of their flashlights.

"Hey!-"

The freight doors slammed shut. The faint blare of the alarms cut off. The noise of the agents was replaced by silence. And the elevator dropped down into the earth.

* * *

"What'd he say?" Lucy turned to her. Her face was doing that thing- when she'd screw her expression all up in what looked like irritation but was normally just a cover for confusion.

"Upside down…" Mikaela repeated. And then repeated louder, more frantically, when Lucy just said another "what?"

The girl strode over to the tent and pulled their dnd board out from under the blankets onto the carpet of the room. The action made both lonely figurines roll off and left only the blackness of the underside of the board pointing up.

"When Even was showing us where Willow was, he flipped the board over," the brunette said in that same frantically important tone.

Of course she'd get the riddle first. Mikaela always got the riddle first. Gollum and Bilbo had nothing on the middle Wheeler child.

But that didn't mean either she or Lucy got it yet. Both exchanged a glance over Mikaela's head as she continued speaking with confidence and flipping the board over and over.

"He flipped it upside down-" and so the action was repeated. Mikaela pointed at the black underside.

"Dark. Empty."

"Do you understand what she's talking about?" Lucy asked Dusty dryly. Her response was a "no" that was just as dry. Mikaela fidgeted with frustration.

Like she normally did when she had figured out a puzzle answer but didn't have the words to explain said answer to either of them.

"Guuuuys," she sighed, "Come'n. Just think about it. When Even took us to find Will, where'd he take us? Her house," Mikaela didn't wait for an answer. She was on a roll. "Right?"

"Yeah," Lucy leaned back in her seat, "And she wasn't there."

"But what if she was there?" Mikaela pressed.

Inside her mind, Dusty felt the wheels sliding into place. A cold feeling washed over her; a mixture of dread and excitement at having solved the riddle as well.

"What if we just couldn't see her? What if she was on the other side?"

The theory kept growing. Growing colder and colder.

Mikaela flipped the game board again. Detailed squares stared up at them.  
"What if this is Hawkins," she pointed down at the detailed side of the board and then flipped it upside down to the black side once more, "and this is where Will is?"

Dark. Cold.

Empty.

No hustle and bustle of patterns or icons. Just flat, empty blackness.

"The Upside Down," Mikaela finished, looking from one to the other.

The last wheel clicked into position.

"Like the Vale of Shadows," Dusty blurted out.

In front of her, Lucy looked from Mikaela to her and back again. Her eyebrows were pushed down on her face in concentration or worry or who knew what but her. Dusty pushed up from the table and dove under the fort. She dug through the pillows until she felt the fat binder containing their DnD manual.

A lovely book. She'd read it over her free time all in one go.

A few times now.

Dusty crawled back out of the fort with the binder in her arms. It was dropped onto the table by the upside down board and she began to flip through the many pages.

Lucy looked at Mikaela. Mikaela looked at Lucy. Dusty didn't look at either; her attention was hyper focused to the book in front of her.

Finally the flipping stopped. Dusty's eyes were triumphant on the page she'd found; a sinister foggy forest drawing sitting below the evenly printed text The Vale Of Shadows.

Mikaela and Lucy leaned over her head as she hunched back over the book once more to read.

"The Vale of Shadows is a dimension that is a dark reflection, or 'echo', of our world."

* * *

The atmosphere down here was strange. Wrong.

It was a subterranean corridor, yes, (which was strange enough as is since no one in Hawkins had guessed that the Hawkins National Laboratory stretched so deeply underground) but it still made her uneasy.

Hop took a few steps out of the freight elevator. Under worn tennis shoes, she could feel the ground squelch. It was supposed to be concrete.

But it was wet concrete. It glistened back at her when she shone her flashlight down at it.

_(Why?)_

She took another step down. The elevator door shut with a clang that made her jump and spin. The flashlight and pistol held close together pointed at the steel and shook. Too jumpy. Too shaky. But there was too much adrenaline from the scuffle above running through her and souring in the mixture of unease.

The walls by the metal door were cracked.

_(Why?)_

Hop took a deep breath to steady herself and immediately began to cough. The air was moist and it felt as if the droplets were clinging to her throat and the sides of her lungs. It made her think of that weird phenomenon; drowning on dry land.

And there was a stench mixed with that moisture. It upset her stomach like a bad glass of vodka. Roiling around inside her and haunting her nose with that stench of mold.

Finishing the coughing fit, Hop pulled her arm up to cover her mouth.

She had to keep moving. The elevator would go upstairs and pick up that batch of soldiers that she'd left behind.

"Willow?"

No voice responded. Only the dripping sounds, the crackle of electricity shorting out, and a rhythmic rumble.

The rumble grew as she continued to walk. Dim lights cast the wet, cracking subterranean hall in a blue photospheric glow; a glow that flickered to blackness steadily. The sputtering lights reminded Hop of the light in the Byers' shed.

Little specks floated in the air; they lit up as white when her flashlight shone on them.

That moldlike stench persisted sickeningly.

* * *

"It is a place of decay and death."

The two silent children cast each other a glance over the head of Dusty as she leaned down over the paper to read word for word.

"A plane out of phase. A place of monsters."

* * *

It shouldn't have felt any different than all those halls upstairs. But it felt repulsive down here.

Hop coughed again. When she called out for the missing kid again, her voice sounded weaker.

Another rumble. It came at regular paces; like a heartbeat or a…

Breath.

Hop felt her own leave her.

"What the hell…" she let herself mutter. Her eyes were glued to the thing in front of her as she took a step. A step to the side. A step forward. A step closer and closer to the mass breathing in front of her.

It was fleshy. Like a mold growth on the wall. Like a mass of worms tangled together and laying sprawled on the ground in their horrid wonder. Like a spiders nest with webs weaved from one worm batch to another.

At the center was the heart. Everything around it was off colored, rotted...she didn't know what. But behind the blight was a light. A dim, filtered pink. And the light behind that fog pulsed with every beat.

It rumbled again. The slimy webs hanging in front of it fluttered at the movement.

Mouth still hanging open in fearful, disgusted, astonishment, Hop felt the crunch of somethings under her shoes; felt it all the way up through her body. Ignored it. Ignored every wet squelch underfoot. Her focus was entirely on the thing in front of her and how it looked with every step closer to it she got.

Mesmerized, Hop reached out slowly and touched the webbing. It slid wetly under her palm and clung to it.

Her gasp went underheard over the next breath outward of the monstrosity in front of her.

What the hell indeed. What exactly was this lab doing experiments on?

What exactly had they found..?

_Clatter-_

The slime ripped free. Hop spun and the hand she had used to touch whatever this breathing thing was grabbed John's gun once more.

It was shaking in her hands. Her heart was beating far too fast. If she'd had any room for thought, she'd have realized that she used meds to keep her heartrate from spiking this quickly.

As it was, Hop had no time to think. She had no thought to offer. All had been stolen the moment she'd walked into this room and found this mass of rot growing from the pink glow on the wall.

And there was someone, or something, else in here with her.

_Babump. Babump. Babump._

The pulse was loud in her ears. As strained as they were, they could barely hear past the beating.

She turned. And turned. And tu-

There was a faceless man approaching- a black screen reflecting instead of showing the facial features under the helmet. A scientist.

A human at least, Hop couldn't help but think.

"Hey!" she pointed the pistol at him but he kept on striding forward. His distance made her backtrack, backtrack towards that breathing thing-

There was an immediate pain in her neck. At the same time, arms were around her head. Leather was over her jaw.

Oh, it hurt-

It-

Was nothingness.

* * *

"It is right next to you, and you don't even see it."

Dusty looked up at the others. All three wore the same expression; mouths parted, eyes wide, brows skeptical.

"An alternate dimension."

How'd Willow get stuck in a parallel world? A part of Dusty was still caught up over the fact that alternate dimensions apparently did exist. Ohhh, all the big scientists would love to hear about this.

Carl Sagan would have a heyday.

That part was being beaten down by the little Destinee in her mind that represented tact. Willow was missing, stuck in some sort of Vale of Shadows where she was trying desperately to tell her sister that _something_ was coming.

The breaking in her voice was still haunting Dusty now. That was real terror her friend was exuding during the conversation they'd heard yesterday through the (now fried) Heathkit.

What about this shadow world, this upside down version of 'home', was so thoroughly terrifying to the girl?

Lucy was slamming her hands on the table in frustration.  
"So what if we know this much. We can't cast shadow walk in real life."

There was panic building in her. In them all.

Well, Dusty could try her best to answer that riddle without Mikaela's help. The curly haired girl gestured at the boy, blood still caked on his nose from the radio incident earlier, that lounged on the couch.

"Maybe he can," she guessed. "And maybe there's someone else we could ask about this all too."

* * *

Stephanie was frowning at the gray image when her mom opened the door to her spacious room. She wore black velvet and was adorned in jewelry. Like it was some freaking beauty show they were going to. Like today wasn't a funeral.

Hah. Like they cared about a funeral for someone they didn't know anyways.

Steph knew exactly why they were going. "We're important members of the community," her mom spouted. Prideful nonsense. Just like their presence was nothing but posturing.

If she or her dad knew that Steph had broken out their alcohol for an illegal way of partying while they were gone, she'd be grounded. School and nothing else. No funeral for her; nope. Just her parents. While she stayed here like a good little child and played 'grounded' while in reality could sneak away from the house without either of her parents bothering to check if she was there or not.

But they didn't know.

And they didn't know how Nat had disappeared the day after said party- with his last known location, judging by his car, being here of all places.

She shoved the piece of picture into her purse and stood to join her mom. The woman looked up at her tall daughters face and moved her chin to the left and right as if inspecting her.

"You look good sweetheart." Then she was swaying down the stairs to the arms of the husband that didn't appreciate how well she could walk in stilettos as her hips danced.

Steph rubbed the skin where her mom's grip had been. Her own heels clipped down the stairs. The purse with the pictures was held tighter when her dad's red rimmed eyes met hers.

Drinking. Again.

But he'd still punish her all he liked for finding out she indulged in his favorite pastime.

The man took her in and seemed to decide that this current outfit was respectable enough. Since all three of them met inspection, they moved out the double doors to the car outside; the token family ready to show their token tears at the unlikely funeral for John Byers' youngest child.

* * *

She was rubbing circles down her back.

She was fixing the collar on her suit and clipping a cheap necklace on.

She was muttering nothings in her ear and offering stilted affection.

And he still wasn't here.

By this point, Johanna had realized that he wasn't going to be here.

Her dad wasn't coming for the funeral. He hadn't even called or come home to tell her where he was.

She _worried_.

Lonni said she worried too.

But there were three people in the world that Johanna could see without her camera: Her dad. Her sister.

And her mother.

And when Johanna wasn't letting herself see the act for her own comfort, she noticed every word and tick Lonni offered.

Every jab at her dad. Every possessive touch. Every movement towards making her presentable.

She disapproved of the suit. Johanna didn't give a damn. She needed something that would be quick to slip out of. Because today she was going to find answers of her own.

The chief of which being whether or not this funeral was a sham.

Lonni was tracing down her neck again; Johanna could see the expression on her moms face in the mirror they both faced.

Could see the _hunger_.

It never had been hunger for what she was. Just what she could be in her mom's mind.

_(It always had hit Willow the hardest, harder than it had her)_

She shivered.

"Come on," Lonni murmured. "It's time to go."

"Mom…" Johanna whispered back. Her hand reached behind her to clutch onto her mothers. Then pulled itself back.  
Right now she didn't need that embrace. She didn't need that hunger.

She needed her dad. She needed her dad to know he wasn't crazy.

Lonni wouldn't understand either of those needs.

The little action didn't go unnoticed. Lonni's frown was visible in the mirror. The woman stepped back into Johanna's room and looked around it.

"Stop thinking about it," she ordered. "We've got to go to the funeral. Then I'll pay for you to go to a shrink or something about that thing you did to the wall yesterday-"

"No."

"Then pastor Charles today-"

"Mom, no," Johanna repeated and finally turned around from the mirror to face her mom instead of her mother's reflection.

"Then what? What? I'm on your side. What about that do you not understand? I'm here to help."

A sneer built up on the teens face.

"We have to-to wait for dad-"

"No, kid," Lonni frowned, "He's not showing. He's abandoned us both to go chase some hallucination. We've got to go. We've got to be there for her."

_(But you never cared for her- you would hurt her and hurt her)_

"Then leave," her daughter said, "After the funeral, leave. Leave us both alone. Don't-don't try to feed us gu-guilt when we don't need-d to feel anymore."

The frown changed tones. Her mom crossed her arms.

"Look at me. I know you're upset, for God's sake we all are, but you're sick. Your nerves are shot, your imagination's all over the place, you-"

"You being here is-isn't helping," Johanna shot back.  
Standing up to Lonni always seemed to hurt her. It twisted at her. Fighting her mom wasn't allowed. Look at you- look at what a daughter you make for. See her face fall- you did that. You did that you ungrateful little bitch.

"You're making things worse," she continued on when she saw her mom's mouth start to move, "Like always."

Like she did to Willow. To her dad. To her.

But Will had been the final straw.

Neither she or her dad could take it any more.

Still, when she'd hear them fight over child support and money and quality of life and shoot slurs at each other until emotions were rended and burned and tumbled-

It surprised her that Willow liked the Clash so much. Johanna had introduced the band to her to drown out the sounds of their parents fighting. She would always hear those fights when their songs came on.

There was only so much of their noise she could handle. Let alone the way it pained her to hear their slurs and how both she and her sister would be tossed into their arguments-

_(why couldn't you just leave us out of it? Why'd you make us pick sides and paint such a brutal picture?)_

"Oh?" Lonni sneered back. "Oh yeah? Worse, huh? I come in, the house is a wreck. Your dad's got lights everywhere. Furniture is in all the wrong places. There's a bullet hole in a wall. The whole place is freezing like someone forgot to shut the windows. And you're here, all alone, your father's awol instead of here to make sure you keep yourself safe on the night before your sister's funeral, and you're a crying mess by a wall that you tried to tear up with your own fingers? Trembling, scared witless, alone- look. Look."

She took a step closer to her glaring daughter

_(take a step in- show her you're not cowed. She doesn't have that control over you anymore. You've grown since those days)_

_(step back, stop this sneering, that's your dad talking- just hug your mom until this whole nightmare is done)_

"I'm on your side," the woman said softer, "I'm gonna make things better around here for all of us."

Johanna scoffed at her. The clothes she wore felt too tight. Constricting. She felt claustrophobic in them. They were growing tighter and hotter and and and-she just needed away from Lonni's stare. Why had she started this? Why why why

"Do me a favor. Behave today. If not for me, then for your sister."

Wasn't that the why; because no matter what, no matter if this was the day they were holding her funeral, Lonni tossed Will and them all around to get her way.

Screw that.

When she left the room, Johanna could see Lonni unpinning her Evil Dead poster and crumpling it into the trash like it was her, the absent mom's, right to decorate or redecorate her room.

* * *

In the noon day air, a select few members of Hawkins community stood in their mourning colors around a small oak coffin. Some cried. Some meant it.

Three girls huddled together without tears; their minds were not on the funeral but rather the friend that the funeral was being held for.

The friend that was still alive. Trapped somewhere in some sort of dark alternate dimension.

Trapped in Hawkins but upside down.

A teen felt her throat constrict every time she looked at the coffin she had bought. She had heard her sister's voice. She was close to believing her father. She had told her mom to stop trying to convince her otherwise.

But looking at it still made her choke.

It was so small.

How could such a young child, one who'd never hurt a living being in her life, go through all this? Go through death or involvement with some sort of faceless monster?

There was no way for her to know the coffin in the dirt was empty.

The body meant for the casket lay under the house of the town's police chief: hidden away.

Another teen looked around the familiar faces of the funeral and waited for it to be over. It wasn't the time, probably, but-

She had questions. There was someone here who may have answers.

The girl whose sister was now dead. Whose father was nowhere to be seen. Whose visiting mother kept her pulled close into her black shawl.

Answers on where, and why, two teens had disappeared seemingly from Earth in her backyard.

And miles away from the somber event inside the hibernating forests of Mirkwood was a white dog; it trotted and panted its way over fallen leaves until it brushed under the flapping sheets hanging under hand painted signs:

All Friends Welcome

Home of Willow the Wise

Castle Byers

The shaggy pet whined and curled up on the makeshift bed besides empty air.

* * *

"Mr Clarke?"

The teacher turned from where he'd been walking towards another batch of adults to see three of his favorite students standing by the snack bar.

"Oh," he looked down at them sadly, "How are you kids holding up?"

Dusty was munching on one of the snacks at the h'orderves table but she managed to look over and nod at their ensuingly slow 'sad' reactions.

The teacher knew they were weird kids but even he would be onto them if they continued to act completely normal at Willow's funeral.

Especially after that _incident_ with Mikaela's 'cousin' at school yesterday.

"We're," Lucy looked over at the others and spoke up joltingly, "In...mourning…"

She looked down at her feet sadly for emphasis.

"Man, these aren't real Nilla Wafers," Dusty spat out powder.

Typical.

"Mr. Clarke!"

The man gave them his attention again. Mikaela had taken the lead; she had stepped forward and began to speak up louder.

Probably a good choice. Lucy always felt the words stumble out of her mouth awkwardly when she was trying to act and Dusty...couldn't seem to act at all. Or she was just awful at reading cues.

"We were wondering, um," the taller girl gestured back at them, "Do you have time to talk?"

"Of course," Mr. Clarke offered his favorite students another smile.

They mosied over to one of the round tables set up for the sham funeral (unless Willow was dead and they'd just heard her ghost yesterday…Lucy hadn't outweighed that yet either)

"So, you know how in Cosmos, Carl Sagan talks about other dimensions? Like, beyond our world?"

Mr Clarke smiled despite the setting.

"Yeah, sure! Theoretically."

They shifted in their seats.

"Right. Um. So, theoretically, how do we travel there?"

* * *

It was there.

All the evidence she'd ever needed to confirm the painful suspicion she'd always had.

Johanna dragged her mom outside of the rec hall where Lonni was charismatically greeting and thanking all her old acquaintances. They all hugged her and gave condolences and she sucked it all up; milked their attention because she knew- she knew the town had always blamed John for their messy divorce. And his absence here did nothing in his favor.

Getting comfortable. Like she'd be here for a while.

A part of Johanna hadn't been against the thought.

A part wanted her mom here.

That part had been stomped upon with what was in Lonni's purse. The papers she was currently shoving up against her moms face.

"The money?" she waved them a few centimeters from the unimpressed face of her mother, "You were here for the money? For a lawsuit?"

"No!" Lonni smacked her hand away. Her face was peeled into fury. Fury at having been interrupted? Fury at being dragged from the biggest social move she'd made that decade?

Fury at having been found out?

"Really mom 'cause it looks clear here," Johanna shook her head. Her voice was full of acid.

"You're not here for Willow! You've never been here for Willow! You never cared about her, never did-"

"Really?" The woman grabbed both of the shorter figures arms. "Right here? At her funeral?"  
Johanna broke free from the grip and dropped the papers. She stepped back, both hands nursing at the bruises on her arms.

"Why?" her voice broke. "Why'd you-why?"

"I came to help. God knows you need it, with your father gone to his dreams. We could use the money-"

"For your debts?" Johanna sneered. The idea of Willow's death, if she had died, being used just to keep Lonni in her house with her perfect young boy toys made her furious.

"Or maybe for your school! Huh? Ever think about that?" Lonni's voice lifted a tad higher. The cacophony of muted noise from the rec hall seemed to die down a small bit.

But whether or not they got an audience didn't register to her. Not then.

Not while her mom lied.

She didn't care about her. Not about her school.

She didn't even know where Johanna wanted to go. Even though she'd talked about it brightly since she was six years old. Over ten years. Over a decade that Lonni had blatantly ignored who she was and what she said in favor of only seeing some perfect caricature.

Now Lonni was shoving past her daughter, casting one last disapproving stare over her shoulder, and entering the building once more.

Johanna realized she was shaking. The uncontrollable tremors only grew worse. She reached behind her absent mindedly until she felt brick and let herself collapse against the wall.

The amount of time she spent shaking there was unknown to her. From the point her mom had pushed away back into the white noise of a crowd to the next time someone spoke to her could've been a few seconds to an hour.

All Johanna did know is that someone did speak up.

It wasn't a voice she'd ever wanted to hear again. It wasn't one she expected to hear again either.

And certainly not so gently.

Timidly.

She hadn't known Harrington could do timid with that bombastic voice of hers.

"Is-" the teen was fiddling with something too small to see in her hands. Standing a few feet away, looking at the streaked, bitter face of the girl running this funeral. All tall suave presence made taller in black strapped heels acting so unconfident it was almost funny. "Is this a bad time? I can go it's just- Can we...talk for a minute?"

It was so alien, coming right on the heels of emotional tumbling sent by her absent dad, sisters voice and mother's greed, that Johanna felt the socially inappropriate urge to laugh.

* * *

"Picture... an acrobat…" Mr Clarke lifted the paper plate with his ink scrawled picture into the air as he spoke.

"Who's standing on a tightrope. Now, the tightrope is our dimension. And our dimension has rules. You can move forwards, or backwards."

Good rules. When you played by those rules, no one got hurt. No one ever had to see that there was any other part of the rope you could move on.

There were no worries about what sort of acrobat, friendly or not, prowled on the other side of the rope.

But when someone saw that there was another sort of direction to travel, they opened that window of curiosity for the other acrobats. And those that couldn't comprehend that way of travel envied those that could.

They wanted what they couldn't have.

It didn't matter who was hurt in the process of satisfying that curiosity.

* * *

Yesterday, she'd thought John Byers' house was a wreck.

Today, Hop could say hers looked worse.

There was stuffing spilt from every chair. Tuinal lay in a blue and red rainbow on the coffee table where it had been spilt. Lights were smashed.

But it had been worth it.

Because those bastards had left their trace.

She had the bug. She had it safely with her now. She knew, without a doubt, she knew they knew she was onto them.

And…

Her satisfied smile fell.

And that meant they knew exactly what unexplained thing she'd seen down there under their lab.

Whatever they'd done to Willow Byers (killed? Hid?), they could and would do to her.

It could be her corpse they faked next.

Hop found two of the pills that lay everywhere and downed them in effort to stop shaking so hard. Then she collapsed by the couch and made a call to a man who'd told her he didn't want her to keep contacting him.

At first Dan sounded mad. Then he sounded worried.

His baby cried in the background.

He had a family now. People to protect. People worth dying for; people worth staying alive for.

Hop didn't deny the alcohol. She didn't answer when the phone rang immediately after she'd hung up.

_"I don't regret any of it."_

The ringing wasn't ignored. Hop lifted the offending phone and threw it against the floor until its shattered form made no more noise.

_"Those seven years...they were everything to me."_

Dan had been concerned. Alarmed.

She hoped he wouldn't have to hear from some second hand source that his ex wife had died the week after she'd made that call.

But she hoped even more that, even if the lab did decide to get rid of her, they'd leave him and his family alone.

_"Just take care of yourself, okay? Say hi to Billeigh for me."_

The dead phone lay among the piles of ruined home- there. Now it really did match John's place, all the way down to the ruined phones.

* * *

"But, what if... right next to our acrobat, there is a flea? Now, the flea can also travel back and forth, just like the acrobat. Here's where things get really interesting. The flea can also travel this way...along the side of the rope. He can even go... underneath the rope."

Mr. Clarke's voice paused for his own illustrative art with every new metaphor. With that last one, all three girls looked at each other and then spoke as one:

"Upside down."

The science teacher looked away from his plate and grinned.

"Exactly."

* * *

"You're up late," Callahan cast her way as a halfhearted joke. Hop ignored him as she dumped her bag onto her desk and stumbled for the coffee table. Whatever drugs the lab had used were slow to wear off. She could still feel the sweat under her collar from them and her vision was more spotty than usual.

The caffeine was dumped down unceremoniously; today she didn't have time for a slow wake up.

It wasn't morning anymore. She'd lost half the day.

The mug was tossed onto her table to be dealt with later. For now, business. Hop knocked on Forests door.

There was no reply.

She moved to knock again.

"He's out," Powell's voice interrupted her. Hop turned to face the cop. He nodded at the chiefs door seriously. "The Chief. He's out. He went over to Bev Mooney's."

"Why?" she asked bluntly before she could stop herself. The officer just offered a shrug.

"She's been upset all morning. Said Dale and Henry went hunting yesterday and they didn't come back. She thought they were on another binger, but she's not so sure now. I think this whole Willow Byers thing has everybody on edge-"

Hop's mind was running a thousand miles at once. She cut the cop off again with another question.

"Where was this? Where'd Dale and Henry go hunting?"

Powell exchanged a glance with Callahan. The younger policeman threw another dart at his makeshift board before he seemed to catch onto what the older man was prompting.

"Oh. Uh, out near Kerley."

Every thought came to a singular worrisome destination.

Mirkwood.

* * *

In the dark, Steph could see the light outside. It was dim. It danced along and through the trees. Probably a flashlight.

She had a guess who it belonged to.

_"Both of them?"_

_"Yeah," Steph gave a worried laugh, "Yeah, both in my backyard. What about-"_

_"Mirkwood," Byers cut her off. "She went missing in Mirkwood. The crash site was near the road near your house."_

_Both fidgetted on the bench._

_"So…Do you think that-that thing there-whatever your dad saw-do you think it stays around there?"_

_"It's a s-start" the quiet girl admitted._

So, what? She'd gone out there at night? To look for the twisted thing Steph had been staring at all day?

Other than whatever the thing was, the picture had been nondescript. It was mainly forest lit by her pool. The back and one foot of Nat's best friend were in one corner of the picture.

If it hadn't been ripped apart, she probably would've missed it. But the tears each cut out any distracting bits from the other parts of the photo. And one section showed someone else besides Nat's missing friend.

It was blurry. Possibly a camera distortion. Maybe the way it looked so human was only an optical illusion; her mind trying to find a person among trees.

But to Byers it was more. It was the thing her dad had reported shooting at.

The other teen had shared the descriptions her dad had given and then left abruptly.

Steph would bet her pool that it was her outside right now.

A minute later and she had a flashlight of her own. She slung on a coat and slunk downstairs. Then, the sound of the living room television covering her exit, Stephanie Harrington slipped through her doors out into the dark night.

* * *

They clarified what they already knew- they weren't the flea. In Mr. Clarke's analogy, they were all acrobats. And for an acrobat, there was only one way to go upside down.

Energy. A massive amount.

Enough to disrupt magnetic fields. Enough to disrupt gravity. Enough to very possibly swallow the acrobat whole.

And then- _rip_. The hole Mr. Clarke's pen punctured through both sides of the folded plate.

"That energy would be used to open up some kind of tear in time and space, and then... you create a doorway."

* * *

John reached out gingerly and knocked on the door in front of him. There was no answer.

Somewhere in the house a television was playing. He could hear its noise filtering through the walls.

_Taptaptap-_

The wind chimes blew behind him.

He lifted his hand a third time-

The white curtain behind the clear glass window of the door was slid apart and a woman looked through at him. Then the curtain fell down again and the door was opened.

"Can I help you?"

She was short. Her curly hair was cut short above her chin. She would've been pretty.

But her eyes were tired. And they looked at him with enough suspicion to make him feel guilty without even knowing what for.

"Oh-hey," John offered a little smile, "I'm looking for Terry Ives. Does he live here?"

Afterwards, he couldn't say she didn't warn him.

In fact, she had been very clear. First with the slow, as if surprised, delivery of "..and...you want to talk to my brother?"

And then with her warning.

"If you want Terry to tell you anything, you're about five years too late."

John entered the house and let the woman lead him into a cluttered living room. Sitting in it was a man in pajamas, a blanket spread over his legs; he was sitting in a rocking chair and stared straight at him.

He didn't blink.

Not at the picture of Will. Not at the questions of the child he had sued the department of energy over.

Not even when John had haltingly looked over at the sister and asked possibly too bluntly what was wrong with him.

She smiled mirthlessly, shook her head, tried to wipe her hand under her eye fast enough the action wouldn't register.

"I told you. You're wasting your time."

The story was told while the woman, Becky, smoked. John saw how her hand shook holding the cigarette.

He knew his did the same.

That it had long before Willow had gone missing.

"Terry was part of-of some study in college. He did it for a few years," Becky explained. The study Jane had told him about.

"MK Ultra?"

"That's the one," she confirmed with a loud exhale. "Started in the 50's. It was-uh-supposed to be ramping down, but the drugs just got crazier. Messed him up good."

"Why'd he join?" John asked softly.

Money. Couple hundred bucks to "people like my brother." Then "pump them full of psychedelics and dump them in isolation tanks."

"Isolation tanks?" he repeated.

Becky gestured helplessly with her hands. That mocking smile formed again with another mirthless laugh.

"Yeah big-these big bathtubs basically. They'd strip him naked and drop him in one when it was full of salt water, so you can float around in there. You lose any sense of uh...sense. And feel nothing, see nothing."  
The woman looked down at the table. She was biting her cheek. She hadn't seemed to notice pain from the action.

"They wanted to 'expand the boundaries of the mind'. Real hippie crap."

She explained it as if it were the most ironic joke in the world.

As if the scientists running it had minds on drugs themselves.

As if it were funny-

But her heart wasn't in on the rules. Becky's voice broke with every expression of bitter mirth she'd offer as she talked about her catatonic brother.

She really could've been a pretty woman. If she had the time to take care of herself. Smile a real smile.

As it was, she shook from withdrawal as she toured him into the room Terry Ives had made for his hoped for child. Her shirt was loose. Her hair unbrushed.

Becky didn't try to take care of herself.

She spent all her time taking care of the mindless survivor of government run experiments.

* * *

The bark underfoot snapped too loudly. Steph tried to sneak towards where the light was bobbing but it was difficult with all the noise each step made.

The flashlight jerked onto her and all at once her vision was white. Steph hissed and backtracked instinctively.

"Sor-sorry." She heard the voice before she saw its owner. "How'd you find me?"

Just as suspected. Johanna Byers.

"What can I say Byers?" Steph rubbed her eyes. "I'm stealthy that way. Like a ninja."

Finally the bright spots danced away enough for her to lower her hands and-

"GEEZ BYERS!" she backtracked and felt her back hit a tree. It wasn't her most graceful moment but she'd been surprised. What the other girl was holding was not typical fare for a teenager.

It wasn't even the gun that was most startling. (Though it certainly was. Especially when she considered whether or not that gun had been pointing at her when Johanna had spun around to see who was cracking branches behind her...that wasn't a pleasant line of imagining to go down).

Being dragged behind was a more unexpected weapon. It was held awkwardly in the same hand as the flashlight and the girl kept readjusting her grip on the bat.

A normal, average baseball bat that she had decided to hammer nails into.

"What the hell!" Steph pointed at it and then the gun. Her heartbeat was slowly calming down.

Johanna didn't meet her eyes.

"Wh-what'd you want me to-to do agains-st that thing? Take pictures of it?"

The already unpleasant mood sunk further. Steph was frowning at the reminder of what this girl had done in her yard to her friends.

But now wasn't the time. They had people to find.

She stomped forward until she stood by the shorter teen. Johanna wouldn't meet her eyes.  
"Do you know how to-o shoot?" she mumbled.

"No," Steph admitted, arms crossed. Like hell would her dad let her near a gun.

The other fumbled with her left hand and the bat slipped to the ground with an "oops". She crouched and fumbled it back up again-

(This was just painful to watch)

-and offered its wooden handle to Steph.

"T-then you can take that. This is my dad's anyway-s so I don't want to r-uin it."

Steph reached out and took the bat from Johanna's already flashlight full hand. Defense prepared, she stepped back from the girls space and spun the thing around. Her own gloves clenched around the handle and she mimed a swing.

The action had Johanna flinch, even though she was feet away.

"And you didn't think this was in any way overkill?" Steph asked with sarcasm dripping from her tone.

In the darkness of night, it was hard to get a good look at the other teen's face unless the flashlight was pointing up at her.

"My dad said-he said this thing kept getting up after being sh-shot five times," came the answer from the obscured face. Johanna had begun to walk forward deeper into the woods further from Steph's house. She jogged to catch up. "I -I wanted to be as pr-repared as I could be."

"Five times." Steph's deadpan hid her fear. "Are you shitting me?"

That nagging fear that this was a bad idea pounded at Steph as her source of light got further into the woods. She mimed another swing with the death bat with a "whoosh" instead of pandering to that unease.

"Ready to go?" she grinned at the other girl; the one who'd started this without inviting her and was walking without pausing at her own interruptions Well, this thing was in her backyard. It was her boyfriend that was missing. No, she wasn't going to sit in the comfort of her house while Johanna Byers tried to shoot a gun and swing a bat at the same time. "Time for a monster hunt, right?" Her fist bumped the shorter teens shoulder; Johanna slid away from the touch fluidly.

Somewhere above, the moon was hidden in clouds. It grew darker and darker the more steps away from the light of her house they took. The trees were tall and overbearing above their heads. Caving in downward on them both, the trees that had taken Nat and Bart and Willow Byers-

"Hey Byers," Steph spoke up, partially just to hear her own voice instead of the whispering quiet.

"Why'd you do it anyways?"

The footsteps stopped. And then they started shuffling forward again.

Hopefully Tammy and Carl's tasteless jokes about Johanna's proclivity for killing were just tasteless jokes- somehow, upsetting the girl with the gun seemed like a dumb move to make.

Steph pressed on anyways.

"I shouldn't have taken them," came Johanna's mumbled reply.

"Well, yeah," Steph rolled her eyes, "But that's not a reason."

The leaves underfoot crunched on.

"Come'n Byers, throw me a bone here."

And don't shoot me preferably. I don't think this death bat could reach you in time.

Wait. And whatever they were hunting, alone, wasn't hurt by bullets?

"I -just-I thought. I see better th-through the lens," Johanna interrupted Steph's thought on how bad an idea this was, "And-and I thought I saw...never mind."

"Saw what?" Who cared about the answer at this point? Just hearing someone's voice drown out the quiet of night was gift enough.

"I thought I saw...I thought it was someone trying to be like everyone else," the quiet answer came, "Is that enough? What else can I say? Whatever it is-I-I know you want to hold it over me. I don't know if you even want an apology, if you'd even take one but...but...I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry I did it."

They crunched on. Steph pointed her own light in the directions Johanna wasn't. Oh look! Trees. More trees. A lot of gray trees. And gray ground.

And what would it even look like to see something else prowling? The vivid image of a pair of eyes reflecting in the flashlight came to mind.

"Wait, what?" Steph started up again. Anything was better than letting her imagination stomp all over her. "You... _saw_ someone? What's that even supposed to mean?"

In her own flashlights beam, Steph could see Johanna's face turn to stare bravely at the taller girl's feet.

"I saw someone faking it like everyone else. But in that moment they weren't. In that moment they didn't know why they were where they were. Why they looked and acted the way they were that night. Just-just trying to act but not being able to- someone alone. And-and it was just a rebellion. It was just another suburban rebellion story every teen tells as they tread the same beaten path the parents they're trying so hard not to be did."

"I wasn't acting!" Stephanie protested. The other girls response was muffled by the hair that obscured her face as she looked ahead and away.

"It wasn't you I was looking at."

Her mouth gaped open. The response she was about to blurt out was forgotten, along with any other thought, at the _sound_-

Not either of them. A small whimpering coming from someone else.

Both teens, awkward dislike forgotten in the moment, looked each other dead on. Then both were moving slowly towards the source of the sound. Johanna's light was next to the pistol in her hands. Steph's was shoved under one arm while both hands gripped the bat in preparation. It didn't feel like a ridiculous precaution anymore.

They crept slowly. Both dim beams shone on the gray ground of leaves and twigs and-

THERE

Slowly, Steph let out a shaky breath. It was just the brittle fur of a common enough animal. Certainly not a carnivore.

Just a deer. A deer bleeding over the forest ground and whimpering.

"I ...it looks like it got hit by a car?" Steph suggested. She looked over at her companion. Johanna just offered a grim nod. Both went quiet.

The clicking made as Johanna cocked the gun broke the nights silence.

"Hey hey-"

"We can't just leave it," the shorter girl muttered more towards the ground than towards her. Steph let her hand hang where it had reached out for her shoulder and then drop. The bat had been let go and now rested on the ground. It wasn't like she needed it. It was just a stupid dee-

When the deer flew out of sight with a crash, Steph screamed. Johanna was shaking, pointing her gun in many directions because who'd have seen where it went what got it heard what had joined them shockingly quietly-

"What was that?" she squealed. "What was that?"

"I don't know! I didn't see!" Johanna's voice was cracking; but at the least it wasn't timid any longer.

Just terrified.

"Where'd it go?" the shorter girl asked.

This time it was Steph's turn to answer with an "I don't know!" She had dropped down to grab her only line of defense once more. The two crept on, slowly separating into two different directions. "Do you see anymore blood?" Johanna's voice reached her ears. No. No all Steph could see was gray leaves gray twigs gray dirt-

"No," she said distractedly.

There was no sign of the deer. Steph kept creeping as quiet as she could on brittle twigs and shining her light to see something. At this point, anything. Any sort of answer.

Something other than just the same indiscernible forest.

There was no sign of it being dragged over here. Steph backtracked to where the deer had first been and started over in a separate direction. The blood was visible where they'd found it and here were some more specks and signs and-

And…

Slowly, her thoughts crawled to a stop. It was too quiet. It had been for a few minutes.

Where was Johanna?

Steph straightened up from where she was inspecting the ground and started to shine her light around. There was no second light to meet it.

"Byers?" she shouted. Panic was beginning to build- it was unavoidable. The deer had disappeared without a trace. Now Johanna had as well.

She didn't want that to happen to her next.

"Byers?!"

It was faint; but it was there. Her name. It was being shouted back. Shouted very quietly, muted, almost indiscernible.

From where?

"BYERS!" Steph screamed out, turning in every direction and casting the little light it provided onto every inch of identical forest around her.

There was no sign of the other girl except for that muted, frantic voice.

* * *

_AN- Nat will finally be back next chapter I promise XD_  
_Ironically enough, this was supposed to be the shortest chapter but it's unarguably the longest- all the characters who only get to show up in this chapter (like Lonni) demanded to get extra 'screen time'._


	6. The Monster

"Whatever burns  
Burns eternally  
So take me in  
Turns internally  
When I'm on fire  
My body will be  
Forever yours  
Nocturnal me"

_AN- Summary is from Nocturnal Me, the song that plays at the end of episode 5 while Jonathan is yelling after Nancy. Personally, that was the perfect end credits song for the show to have chosen._  
_Major references to the Upside Down comic occur in this chapter and the next two; namely, that in the comic Will runs into another human briefly. Neither that comic or the book 'Henry Huggins' belong to me._  
_Also a bit of violence is briefly described- if you could handle seeing Barb's corpse in the show, then you should be fine here._  
_As always, there's no beta so the mistakes are inevitable. Please leave your thoughts in a review :_

* * *

_Hunting Hours._

_Fifth Hunting Cycle Since Contact._

_Another._

_Another had entered. Their scent carried in the stagnant air. Faint. But a different taint._

_There were still those fresh and vivid bleeding into odorous trails coloring the air. Those clouded its focus. Their life blood was too tantalizing to ignore. No sounds or smells or feelings could dissuade it from finding those still so fresh._

_But when hunting hours passed and it was sated-_

_Then it would go. It would find the scents belonging to the prey that had no life fluid spilt._

_It needed them to sate a different thirst._

_There were three now. One was found the first night. Another was the time right before the cycle before this cycle. Yet another this cycle._

_Their scent was tame. Their mind was vivid. As vivid as the first. They should have been its goal._

_The One in the black would want the vivid-minds for their own._

_But it was so very hungry. And it had grown so lethargic without prey. Without panic._

_Soon the One would force their own purposes. But while it had freedom, it would hunt. It would play._

_It would eat._

_And then it would hunt and play the far more difficult game. It would seek out the faint taints of smells and sounds and minds left behind by the three prey that did not bleed. And those it would offer to the what lay in the black._

_Appeased. They would be appeased._

_And it would be free to hunt uninhibited._

* * *

_November 11th. 1983. 11:46 p.m._

_"It-it's been how long?"_

_Too long._

_Too long since he'd even heard another voice._

_It was astounding how enamoring a single near-strangers voice could be after losing exposure to other humans._

_"I'm not sure," he looked out of the grimy window to the patio and woods beyond. No sight of it. "Since Wednesday afternoon. What day did you say it was when you came in?"_

_The other inhabitant of the dark room shuffled. He didn't look to her from the window._

_"...Friday. Evening."_

_Oh God. It had been two days. Two days in this hellish place. Two days without water. He was supposed to be dying by now. Instead, all he felt was the constant chill and the freeze of his lungs that ached with every inhale._

_If he wasn't dying, then maybe-maybe-_

_The girl-_

_But dying made him think of blood and bone and living things crawling under and over skin that was dead and never should have been-_

_It hurt, a pain in his brain so different from the chill in his body, and oh oh oh how it hurt._

_"Hey," he turned from the window and looked at his companion. Her gloves clung to her hands and he thought he could see the tendons lifted through the material; tendons tensed from how her hands held so tightly to her gun._

_His mutter made her jerk and her head shot up so that her face was visible under that mop of hair. Dammit, he wasn't trying to scare her. He didn't want to scare anyone. He didn't want to hurt someone_

_-just some thing, yes he did. Wanted to tear and break and prevent from every hurting another again-_

_But she wasn't scared, no more than him;_

_(which, granted, was very terrified)_

_it was just that she was a...jumpy sort of person. He had a feeling that if he made it out of here, he would be too._

_"I haven't slept in-" well, he wasn't sure of the technical time, "a while. Maybe five hours over two days? Can…"_

_She had already nodded before he even asked the question._

_"Can you watch my back? While I sleep?"_

_Impossibly, her grip on the gun tightened even more._

_"Yes."_

_She tried to offer a smile. It probably looked as panicked as any of his did._

_"I'll keep you safe."_

_The smile he returned was still likely horrific to look at but it felt real to him and she didn't react to it negatively. With his new companion keeping the pistol at ready and moving to the position at the window, he found the couch, knocked a few webs free and fell onto it to finally rest._

* * *

_November 9th. 1983. 3:10 p.m._

It was cloudy and the sun glowed through those clouds. Bright light landed down on the crunchy dry leaves and twigs covering the ground.

The leaves and twigs were not dry here. They were awfully soft and stuck beneath his hands while he crawled on them. The crunches came from vines laying on the slimy ground.

It was not cloudy here and there was no sun.

Nat's eyes blinked against the darkness. His eyes weren't accustomed to such a change in lighting.

There wasn't time to wait unmoving while his eyes grew used to seeing again. The tunnel was tightening painfully. He could do nothing to keep it from closing and so he had to move. Nat kept crawling blindly as the bark tightened and pushed against his legs. Something stuck to his face and neck.

One leg tugged free of the tree. That lessened the pressure by half. Nat took a deep breath in before he worked on tugging the next out; the air he'd breathed made him cough.

He couldn't wait and cough. The tunnel was crawling down and down on his still trapped leg. Nat pulled it free and gave himself a moment.

It was a moment he spent in wonder and dawning realization.

The wonder being over this place he was in. It was dark and his eyes were still adjusting but he what he made out seemed to be a scene of snowfall in twilight.

The realization being that, as impossible as it seemed in the face of seeing it all, it was not night and there was no snowstorm.

It was day in his world. There were clouds out but no precipitation. The sun was bright.

This was not his world.

And he had crawled into this one through a tree that had grown solid as he passed under it. He had followed the man with no face into a world with no day and his exit had closed behind him.

_November 9th. 1983. 3:14 p.m._

His eyes had adjusted and the wonder had morphed to fear. There was no sign of the creature he'd been following. There was no sign of Bart for that matter.

And there was no way out.

Nat pried slimy bark, pounded it, felt his nails bend and rend from frantic scrabbling- the tree failed to give way.

He stopped trying. For a moment, he left his hands on the tree and breathed. Each breath rasped. It was cold. But it was a different cold than winter air. It shredded down his throat with every breath.

The tree was not going to give. Somehow, even if he did have an axe and just carved through the trunk, Nat didn't think it would again. Not for him.

So he needed to look for another way out.

His hands left the wet trunk as he rose and turned. The plan was simple; the execution wouldn't be. How could he go anywhere when it was so hard to see in here? What Nat needed was a flashlight

_( what he needed was a way out )_

but for now it seemed he was locked in a nocturnal world. A twisted pantomime of his own.

It wasn't a new place. That was the most startling part of it all. He hadn't followed a bug creature into its alien bug world. He'd followed a humanoid into the very same human world he himself lived in; or the same world in layout but wearing a different set of accessories- a silent, dark, overgrown place.

Speaking of…

Nat pulled away from the tree and looked around the surrounding darkness. Puffy flakes floated by- no. Not flakes. One yellow one drifted near his head and he got a better look at it. It didn't have the right structure like a snowflake would have. Just a central point and five branches surrounded by ambient cloudy light. Like pollen maybe. Spores.

They didn't seem particularly dangerous. So they shouldn't be his main focus. Not when he'd followed something much larger than a spore into this place.

There was no sign of it. Nat wasn't sure if that was reassuring or not. Finding it or him, whatever that thing had been, didn't feel like a good idea. Something about it felt dangerous. And besides, it wasn't like it had a mouth to answer his questions with.

But what had it been? What did it have to do with Bart? Where was Bart?

For that matter, where was he?

* * *

_November 12th. 1983. 4:10 p.m._

_"You know, last week I was shopping with Bart for an outfit Steph might like. Took me forever," Nat rattled off a laugh. And it had. Even if Bart had been rushed and unhappy with the act. "It seemed like life or death, you know? And...and now…"_

_They need levity. They needed it desperately. After what had happened- after the clearing-_

_The shot was still ringing in his mind. He could hardly bear to imagine how it sounded to her memories._

_"You're running from a monster with Johanna Byers."_

_She was giving an awkward little grin at her own sarcasm. It looked better on her than panic or grief._

_Mission: Levity. Game Over: You Win._

_"...yeah." Nat blinked. There was such a surreality to the moment. It wasn't a forced calm. It wasn't a forced relief. It felt like two friends joking around; old friends who'd known each other as long as he and Bart had. And they had only spent time together for a day; this adrenaline and monster filled bond felt surreal to every rational part of his mind._

_Johanna pressed him about the comment. He'd never known her to be very open. But her admission earlier, hard as it seemed for her to choke out, her breakdown after the shot- Maybe it was the trauma speaking for both of them._

_"What's the weirdest part? Me, or the monster?"_

_The weirdest part was that they could even be joking about this. Nat saw the thing every time he shut his eyes. Having seen it with eyes open seared the image and fear in his perpetually dizzy head. But here they were- and here they laughed._

_Nat gave a sarcastic grin of his own to match hers._

_"You," he joked. They held eye contact even as he made his eyebrows contract in mock seriousness over such a no brainer question. "It's definitely you."_

* * *

_November 9th. 1983. 3:25 p.m._

The layout was almost the same. Nat stumbled over the roots and vines and slipped in slime but he followed in the direction he'd come. _If only he had a flashlight..._

The coating of grime was wiped off his face with the sleeve of his aviator jacket. It would leave a stain on the brown leather and he'd be embarrassed to wear it to school again- yeah, that wasn't really important right now. Better a dirty jacket than a sticky face.

And it wasn't like anyone was here to see him. He had checked.

Nat followed the direction he was pretty sure he'd come from in, well, _his_ world. It led him to Steph's house alright.

The mansion was dark. Blue vines crawled up its sides (or at least they looked blue. Everything did). Not a light was on.

The pool was nothing but a pit in an empty yard. Nat looked it over briefly while his mind tried to catch up to everything. He was at Steph's house. There was no water in the overgrown pool...why?

Then he went into the house and searched for help. He wanted desperately, so desperately, to hear a voice. Someone he could scream for help to.

There weren't any.

Nat went back towards the exit, through overgrown living rooms and dirty windows, and-

Stopped short. His breath caught.

It was dark everywhere but it was not pitch black. There was an ambiance to the lighting.

It showed the flash of pale mass outside.

His body froze up in place while he watched. The thin window by the door had vines pulsing on both sides but there were still enough clear spots to look through.

_That_. That had been what he had seen. It had been what he had chased.

He hoped it would not turn to chase him.

It was big. Nat had thought it was from what little he'd seen in the forest. When it had ran by, he had fallen down and from the ground he really couldn't tell how big the faceless man was at that angle. Now he was standing still and it wasn't bolting away under the shade of trees.

The detail Nat had been right about was the face.

The face was gone. Wiped clean. A blank, empty slate.

That was no human in a mask. There were no clothes on its lanky form. Just skin and bones. It was very bony, Nat determined in a state of observational hysteria. Ribs showed through skin. It made him think of that old book he'd been read as a kid. How did his mind connect this shit he was living through to _Henry Huggins_? How was he not panicking?

...Was he?

The arms were almost as long as the bony legs. They planted on the ground, hands outstretched flat on it like the talons of birds. One hand would lift. Hang airborne a second. Show off those claws. Land down again. The spine would arch like a cats and curve down to the ground. Bony hips stuck upwards while its featureless head hung only inches from the vines below.

Nat had been wrong. It wasn't a blank slate. There was a pinched look to the center of the face. A wrinkled pinch that began to loosen. Loosen and loosen until skin did nothing but hang from where it had been peeled back from the head.

It was too close to the house. Too close to Nat.

Close enough he could see those details he hadn't asked to see.

He'd been wrong about the mouth too. It _did_ have a mouth. Not one to answer his questions with but one meant to...meant to…

How did something with such a vast mouth to eat with have such a starved body?

_Come on, Ribs, old boy. I'm going to call you Ribsy because you're so thin_

The urge to laugh almost broke free. That mouth. Any noise he made and it could shoot over his way and let him see all those little teeth-

_No no no no_

But it had no features besides that mouth. No eyes, no ears, no nose. Maybe...it wouldn't be able to see him through the windows...would it?

Another hand lifted and planted. It kept bobbing its head above the ground. Each folding jaw hung down leisurely and obscured his view of teeth once more.

The head came up and folded back. Not entirely; it didn't return to its pinched flatness but the mouth was buried under skin once more. _Who was to say it didn't have those senses?_ he scolded himself neurotically. After all, it hadn't had a mouth visible either. Who knew where it kept eyes and the rest?

One of his feet slipped back. Then another. He retreated from the window pane with a million frantic thoughts in his head. From the base of the stairs, he couldn't see that pale mass outside anymore. Which could mean it had gone further into the forest. Or it could mean it was just somewhere nearby he couldn't see.

His gut ran catapults at that thought. The air stunk. Nat felt sick.

He didn't want to turn his back on the window and the humanoid thing beyond. But he didn't want to climb the stairs without looking. Doing that on this weird ground could make him slip and then he'd fall noisily- _maybe crash to the stairs-feel the vines under the hands he'd drop to catch his fall-bring his head back up and see it over him-all mouth ready to feed a starving body-_

Nope.

Carefully, Nat turned around to face the staircase. There were the strange roots pouring down from the second floor and covering the stairs. Clear white strings hung from the rails unmoving; the air was too stagnant to make them flutter about. His hand went out slowly to take the rail and found himself recoiling the arm, wiping the hand against his jacket, after touching some of the cold...stuff. Then his head whipped backwards- _just to check_ \- and saw no sign of the creature standing over him summoned by the noise. So he reached out again. Then Nat used the shared weight on the rail to creep up the stairs until he stood on the top floor.

He'd been up here yesterday. He'd followed Steph up here, laughing with her, seeing her wait in the front of the hall for him to finish talking with Bart-

Alien. That's what it felt like now.

Whether it was yesterday that now felt alien or his current inexplicable predicament, Nat wasn't sure.

And with his heart thumping in his throat and chest and temples like it was, he didn't think he felt safe enough to ponder over that.

_November 9th. 1983. 4:51 p.m._

He had retreated all the way to Steph's room. Last night it had been full of warmth and life. Now the shower was covered in dirt. The bed had those same web things strung on it. The vines were over the window pane he had stared out last night before he'd made his decision. With that thing prowling down below, he had no urge to stare out it now.

There was nothing of use here. Nat had gone through the bathroom cabinets and found empty bottles. He'd found stuff under the bed and around the room and everything just seemed out of place as well as useless.

The amount of time that had passed since he had retreated up here was unknown. It felt like long enough to him though. It felt like long enough that he could creep to a window and look around for the thing. Like long enough that he could creep out of the room.

So, slowly, he made his way around the top floor. He left that room with that bed behind. It had been uncomfortable being in there even with the creature outside. If the thing was gone, continued presence in here was unbearable.

He crept outside and found himself alone in the silent woods once more. The pool was passed over. The house was left behind. Nat started towards where he had parked his car. On the way, he found another troubling sign.

There was blood on the ground.

It wasn't fresh. The cold air had crystalized it. The spilt red was only noticeable because of how its color contrasted with the all encompassing blue everywhere in here.

This came from either a human or an animal.

There was no sign of either at the moment but the blood was left behind.

Nat thought of a mouth of sharp teeth.

Almost unnoticeably, a noise drifted through the air.

A moment later and he'd turned to retreat back to Steph's house.

* * *

_November 12th. 1983. 4:15 p.m._

_It took the creature to interrupt them. Its lanky form was swinging along the ground and both fell impossibly quiet. Johanna held her gun by her legs; both arms ready to brace against shooting. Her back was tight against a tree and Nat's had found one only feet away. Hello tree- meet back. Say hello back, back._

_The branch he held was kept as still as he could. The thing didn't have sight as far as they could tell but there was no reason to risk drawing its attention._

_They faced each other and both seemed to make the same conclusion silently. First Nat and then Johanna peeked out from their trees._

_It was prowling a few trees distance away. All pale skin and sickly stature and-_

_Blood. Spread on the flaps that hid its mouth._

_His stomach flipped. He knew where the blood came from. They both did._

_He reached out with his free hand slowly. Just as carefully, Johanna shifted the pistol to just one hand and took his with the other. They crept as quietly as they could away. Hollow roots and living vines made the venture dangerous. But staying near the creature that somehow tracked without eyes or ears was far more dangerous still._

_Nat kept his head faced towards it; if it moved, he would be warned._

_The creature continued to prowl quietly until its blank head shot up. Five jaws loosened until the head became a growling mouth. The thing crawled forward towards where they were._

_Both teens panicked accordingly. Both also had the instinct to hide now and so they did. They cornered down against another tree. Johanna pointed the gun forward but neither wished it came down to using it. Not after hearing her father had already tried this attempt and the thing kept walking on._

_A gray hand hit the ground first. Both flinched into each other and against the tree._

_Then its head appeared and it swung side to side with horrid slowness. Each time it swung their way, the gaping mouth and sharp teeth showed in all their glory. And it may have just been him, but Nat swore it 'looked' at them longer than it did the other trees._

_But the creature continued to crawl about, lifting up to its back legs to press a hand to a tree and then-_

_slip through it._

_Bark melted away into softness. Its gray skin disappeared through it. Black bark grew back in sight over where it had slid through._

_It had done this before. Both teens knew it could reappear through any tree without warning; it could grab them from through the very tree they were shielding against._

_Johanna tugged their hands forward and the two moved away from what no longer felt like safety. The monster never reappeared._

_He could swear it was playing with them._

_They moved as quick as they dared through the forest. When they made it far enough away, Johanna had started shivering._

_"D-did-d-you-see?" she whispered, "All th-the bl-blood? I-I-st-I sta-"_

_Nat just remained next to her. She didn't like to touch. Wasn't that what everyone at school said? Presence was enough._

_This place had starved him of human contact for what felt like a lifetime. It played tricks on his sanity. Having human contact again?_

_He thought of an embrace and a man and the sounds of the monster feasting; slowly, he reached an arm around her while she remembered all of the same._

* * *

_November 9th. 1983. 5:11 p.m._

There were voices drifting through the house. They were unconnected and disjointed but they were there. Nat thought he recognized Steph's among them.

He spoke up and heard no response.

After trying this with growing desperation, Nat felt he had made a discovery.

He could hear them. They could not hear him.

And then there was a noise muted noise. The jolting tunes of a radio. It disturbed him more than hearing ghostly music. But Nat hunted down the radio regardless. It didn't yield anything new for him to understand or use.

The televisions flickered and gave out sputtering noises as well. Because of their flashing screens, Nat found them to be more comforting than the sound of the radio downstairs. He wasn't sure how many hours he spent by the screen in an upstairs room wishing its owner hadn't turned it off.

_November 9th. 1983. Unknown time._

Sometime in what had to be night in his world, Nat drifted downstairs and tried to turn the switches of the radio in the massive living room. It fizzled to a garbled life and his success made him jump out of his skin. What if the monster heard him? Nat crept back upstairs and looked from the windows for any sight of it. When none were yielded, he let himself relax as best he could.

Somewhere in the unchanging time around him, the boy fell asleep besides the slimy version of Steph's bed.

He couldn't bring himself to get into it again.

* * *

_November 12th. 1983. 1:22 p.m._

_It was the sound._

_Nat had woken to it. Johanna had looked startled from it; she still was standing watch by the window and was now looking from it to him as if to confirm he'd heard it too._

_He answered the unspoken question._

_"I heard it," the teen struggled up from the hold of sleep and the cushion of the couch, "Last night, I heard you that way. Sound travels different here. I think?"_

_It didn't matter what the science behind it was. It didn't matter if it was magic._

_What mattered was that they'd heard someone else out there._

_And he was asking for help._

* * *

_November 10th. 1983._

It proved to be a restless rest. There was no way for Nat to relax in here. Every time he drifted to sleep, he jerked alert again in expectation of finding a monster above him.

With nothing better to do, Nat once again left the illusive safety of Steph's ghostly mansion.

The forest was snowy twilight still. Never before had branches looked so much like bony arms and branching fingers ending in claws. Never had oak leaves been so slimy nor looked so much like reaching hands bearing down above him.

Nat wondered if he was panicking. The idea of a hot shower sounded more appealing than anything. Too get clean of this mess and then find the arms of a real, living person.

The question circled unavoidably. What if it came back? What if it came back?

Of course it would. This was its hunting grounds, not his. He was on the monsters turf, not vice versa.

But Nat wouldn't be caught unawares again.

Not like whoever the crystallized blood belonged to.

One of those creepy branches was tugged from its tree. It came from the trunk as if the tree itself was hollow. Seeing as Nat had come in here through one, the idea didn't surprise him. Sadly, kicks and hits to the wet bark didn't puncture a hole back to his reality.

The branch he'd taken wasn't hollow either. It was stout. Maybe the length of a walking stick. It had knobs wider than his fist and no part of it was thinner than his arms width.

It would do.

The branch was held at ready before him. His freezing hands had a stiff grip on his makeshift defense. With weapon ready, Nat set for the blood and away from the empty house once more.

* * *

The moment John got back from the city, he saw the other car in his driveway. It wasn't Johanna's. But it was a car he recognized.

Jane was already here.

And immediately a weight left him. The last he'd seen her was outside the morgue. They had planned to split up from there. He would go to the chief with the fake and then to Terry Ives; she would go to Hawkins lab itself.

Out of their jobs, there wasn't a chance in hell hers wasn't more dangerous. And if she hadn't come back...But he didn't have to worry like that anymore. She was here at his place. Her car was parked safely in his driveway.

John drove his own up besides in and shut the engine down. Feeling restless, his fingers dug about for a camel and lit one up inside his car. A whiff of the toxin made the jitters ignorable.

The stub of a cigarette was tossed aside onto the passengers seat and lost itself among the tears of stuffing. It really was an old car.

When he left, the air around him was biting. The jacket he'd kept for years now was tugged tighter around him. It didn't keep the frost from his cheeks. It didn't keep the chill away when he looked once more at the empty space on the driveway where his daughters car should have been.

John strode up to his door, stomped the dirt from his boots, and then pushed it open. Immediately he caught sight of the mess. Granted, he hadn't left the house looking good. But this was...worse than before. Sometime during the night, when he'd been in a cheap motel near where the Ives lived, or this very day, someone had taken down the christmas lights. The wires lay in a heap on the coffee table. That may have been Johanna's doing. She didn't like the lights after all. She didn't understand how important they were- it was- hearing Willow or watching Willow through the electricity.

But Johanna wouldn't have unscrewed every bulb from the wires and let them stay in messy bunches on the ground.

Gray caught his attention. Years of heightened instinct let him note when something was wrong about his surroundings. John spun to look and his hand dropped comfortingly to his belt.

It was just tape. Duct tape plastered onto the wallpaper next to where-

_The thing had come out from._

There was no way that was a coincidence.

"Johanna?" he called out softly. Her car wasn't here but he couldn't help but hope she would be.

From the kitchen came a loud noise and then a quieter scramble. His daughter didn't come running from the other room. It was Jane; disheveled and crazed looking, but the woman nonetheless. Her clothes were rumpled, sweat staining the front of her shirt, and her hair was sticking up all over the place but it was her eyes that concerned him the most.

They had purple underneath like she'd stayed up all night. They were wide open and hostile like she'd been expecting someone else.

Neither spoke for a moment. Then-

"I lost your gun."

His gaze fell down to her own belt and pants. There was indeed no gun there. When he looked up again, Jane tried to offer a guilty grin. It came across flatly exhausted.

"W-" he started up, "How? Are you alright?"

She didn't shake her head or nod. It didn't seem like she'd all the way registered what he'd said. John started to think she really had been awake all night and day.

"The lab got me," Jane said flatly, "Drugged me up. Bugged my place. Hid one right in a lamp. I thought they may have bugged yours too."

So that's why all the light bulbs were unscrewed.

"Oh."

John looked about his place once again and took in the mess. Did Jane do this while Johanna was here or had his daughter already left when the woman arrived?

"Did you find any?"

This time she did move her head; shook it in a simple 'no'. Well, that at least was good news.

"Why-well, why did they...bug your place?"

His response was a bark of laughter.

"Because I'm on to them," Jane declared, that manic gleam there again, "I saw _it_."

* * *

Steph was panicking. There was no other explanation.

Despite the pictures, despite Johanna Byers' story, despite Nat and his friends disappearance, despite even the weapons dragged on their 'monster hunt' with them-

She hadn't really thought there was a monster out there.

Maybe a bear. Or a killer, in a suit with a mask. Hell, she watched and read plenty of news about all the serial killers picking up hitchhikers and loners and such. With Willow Byers disappearance first and then the two teens who seemingly were out here on their own, it didn't seem too unlikely that there could be a killer prowling around these woods in the evening.

But only picking one victim when there were two? Hiding out so deep in the forest in Indiana's winter nights?

Being so, so silent?

That didn't seem like the work of a masked killer. It didn't seem like the stealth a lumbering bear would be capable of.

One minute and Johanna Byers was near her. The next and her flashlight was gone. She was gone.

Shaky hands pressed out the wrinkles of the distorted photo and looked at it under the porchlight by the pool.

Too slender to be a bear.

Not predictable enough to be a human.

Where had Johanna gone?

The light above brightened and flashed. Steph's hands shuddered where they were pressed over the picture.

She'd looked. She'd looked and looked-

There was no sign at all of the other teen. Just the deer's blood on the ground barely colored in the gray of night.

_What had just happened? What the hell had just happened?_

Steph had spent fifteen minutes searching all around the site of the deer and Johanna's disappearance. There was nothing. The woods were horribly quiet. No insects chirped.

The feeling that something was right behind her kept making her twist around to see what was there, expected to see a nightmare just waiting for her to have turned to see it before leaping or perhaps her turning caught it in the action of leaping on her-

That fear kept nagging and growing until eventually Steph could not stand the expectation of stress any longer. Bat held in front of her and flashlight darting to and fro, she made her way back to her house.

Alone.

Now she sat outside the porch and wondered what to do with a mind barely thinking straight enough to wonder anything at all.

Her parents were still awake. The lights coming from the windows above were proof enough of that. If either saw the weapon Johanna had given her, they would flip. That wasn't something Steph could worry about right now. She'd have to hide it, hope they didn't pay enough attention to find it-

Oh, who was she kidding. They wouldn't pay attention even if she just dumped the thing under her bed.

With some unknown creature taking people, that idea wasn't all that unappealing. Maybe tonight she'd just sit on her bed with her back to the wall and light on with the freakin' death bat in hand and eyes pealed open for danger.

In the morning she'd call the police about this and report another missing persons.

The last time she'd done that, the car on the road had vanished and reappeared only for the state troopers. If it wasn't for the fact that Steph knew Nat, she'd have believed what the news said; the teen, along with his friend, had ran away.

But that wasn't something Nat was capable of doing.

Still, going to bed and calling the police in the morning sounded like the best plan.

Or…

Or she could go to the person her stunt tonight had affected the most.

She could go tell Mr. Byers.

* * *

Hours passed. So many hours that he had already found himself exhausted once more. This time, he hadn't slept in Steph's house.

Nat had found his own.

The town was dead. The suburbs were just as horridly still. His parents' house, sitting motionlessly on the end of an overgrown cul-de-sac, was as dead as the rest.

But he hadn't caught sight of Ribsy out here. As far as Nat could tell, the monster stayed in its woods near Steph's house. All sorts of theories on the why and how started to build. Biology classes and library sessions with Bart pushed for his attention; memories supplied him with sharks, wolves, predators of the like.

However the creature hunted, it didn't seem to be by sight. Even if it had eyes, the lighting here was so poor that it wouldn't see anything to hunt. And if it could? Then it had eyes adjusted to this lighting; night vision of a sort. And if its eyes were meant for that, then going into his world had to hurt it.

Bart hadn't come home that night. His car had been left on the road from where he had driven Nat over to the party.

Willow Byers had disappeared Sunday night after leaving his little sister's kid party downstairs.

Night. _Night_.

Was that why it hadn't leapt on him in the woods? Had it _just not seen him?_ It was cloudy but still bright in daylight. If it did have 'night vision', then it wouldn't have distinguished him from the trees and ground he had tripped on...right?

He was hungry. Not to mention thirsty. But there was no water in sight. He'd die without water in three days, wouldn't he?

That would mean, if the others were here, then…

The kid was already gone. It was either Thursday or Friday right now, of that Nat wasn't sure, and if she wasn't killed already she'd have died from thirst some time Wednesday.

But Bart had disappeared Tuesday. He still had a chance.

Nat stretched from the unwelcoming copy of his bed and found his makeshift staff again.

If he was going to find his friend, it was going to be hard. There was a chance he'd have to go up against that thing with its gaping mouth and many teeth; and all he had was a stick.

This mirrored version of his room only had the bare essentials. It didn't have every photograph stuck to the board above his desk. But it didn't need to for Nat to remember each one. Each memory of that little redhead who'd been the only kid willing to befriend him in first grade; his childish innocence that developed into a face that seemed just as innocent still as it was round. Bart had been at his through side thick and thin. He'd been there for every heartbreak, every victory- he'd been there every time Nat needed him and vice versa.

_Why don't you just. Go home. Just go._

The redhead loved him. He'd always had his back, even when Nat went through his jerk phases. He always counted Nat's successes as his own because the Wheeler teen _mattered_ to him and Nat had never even comprehended that as much as he did right now.

They were bffs, weren't they? Maybe they wouldn't always be best friends, but they'd always be friends _forever_. If forever had been cut short, if Nat wasn't going to see him again, then-

He didn't know. He really couldn't imagine a life where Bart _wasn't there_. His mind was incapable.

The hand on the branch stiffened.

So, if that skinny son of a bitch had tried to hurt his friend, Nat would beat it to death with nothing but a stick and his own two hands. He'd go to hell and back to get Bart back safely.

* * *

It only made the moment worse.

Worse worse _worse_ -

Nat had been wrong. The creature had no issue entering this version of Hawkins.

He had been walking the streets in search of water or food when he saw its hulking frame. Despite the starving appearance, it still stood far taller than him and had claws longer than the frame of his hand. It may not have been bulky but it appeared huge to his mind- it knew undeniably that it was the mind of a _prey_ in the blind presence of a _predator_.

It slunk from the steps of the overgrown library. The grand doors of the building were open. No gusts of wind blew them.

No gusts of wind stirred the air at all here.

Then down the street it crawled on all fours. It looked so wrong moving that way. It had a body so humanoid that to see it down like an animal seemed so _strange_. But he remembered how it looked reared up and he couldn't deny that the image was worse.

What had been so important in a building that made it come from what Nat felt like was its hunting grounds to the dead city?

There was no question or enough apprehension to keep him away. Nat was curious and determined; the same kind of mixture that convinced him to crawl through a closing hole in a tree.

How he wished he hadn't followed through either time.

The library building was a nest.

It had vines pulled into piles and enclaves, like a rats nest or maybe a birds. The way these 'beds' were propped together almost seemed like what Nat had seen cats do; knead at blankets until they were all propped up and perfect.

The piles weren't made completely of vines. The place had a stench like no other he'd ever smelled. The nest smelled like mold and rot and piss all at once.

It stored its food here too.

Animals. People.

Far more animals than humans, but their mangled forms were ignored in favor of frantically searching through the faces that weren't ruined beyond recognition.

There was an older man he'd seen around town every once and awhile. He had a hole in his chest where something had punctured deep and then ate straight into.

Nat leaned over the torrid rank of squirrels and haunch of a deer wrapped in vines and vomited. But he could still see it.

He'd never seen death before.

In his mind, he always considered death a bit like sleep. You got old and then 'passed away'. There were diseases at play sometimes and age always meant such things as the perpetual smell of urine and memory losses but it was still _clean_. It wasn't- it wasn't-

It'd been too long since eating last. There was nothing left to retch up even when the nausea rolled through again.

But he'd never be hungry again, or so he felt in that moment. He'd never be able to eat so long as the smell of rot stayed in his nose. And besides, his hunger here hadn't changed; it hadn't grown or dissipated. It was as stagnant as his thirst. Was it impossible to starve here? Would he be stuck here without food until his body looked as emaciated as the monster's but just as unwilling to die? No wonder it got such a variety of food. Food it kept here in its nest to stave of stagnant starvation... Oh, there the sickness came again. The mans body, its chest cavity torn open and spilt about, danced in front of his eyes no matter how he screwed them shut.

It took too long for Nat to find the courage to move again.

He wished he hadn't. He wished he would have just left then.

Nat kept creeping through the nest. It was so dark in here that, had he not been trapped in here for at least over a day, he wouldn't have been able to see a thing. As it was, his eyes had adjusted to the perpetual twilight enough to let him see his way through the place.

Enough to see faces.

And Nat had ran out of library, tripped over the vines covering the stairs and sprawled on the road. The crash bruised his chin and shocked his system. It forced a sob out of him. Too loud. He was being too loud. Ribsy would come crashing down the streets to jump on him any second now. He'd find a place in the nest next to- next to-

Nat let out a scream. It cracked and tore his very throat. It would draw the monster's attention if it could hear at all.

He had to move. Shaking, Nat's grimy hand pushed up on the cold ground and found its way around the branch.

Move-

One knee propped up beneath him as he pressed himself up. He didn't want to move. Not unless it was through time. Not unless he could go back and unsee it all; go back and save Bart. Another sob broke out.

Move!

Nat wavered on his feet, but he was up. He ran across the streets and dove into a shop nearby. Crouched, he watched through the window as that pale form darted impossibly fast to the spot he'd only moments before lay on. Its head brushed over the ground and continued to move around the spot that way for what felt like hours. Nat couldn't dare make a sound. He'd done enough for a lifetime with that scream. It may have, in fact, shortened his lifetime.

What had shortened Bart's? Had the redhead made noise? What had it been?

Why had it tracked him, out of all the teens in the world, in Hawkins, down?

Bart had always had a round face. The other kids would make fun of him for it. They wouldn't if they'd seen him in there. With that puffy pale face, bloated from injury and whatever had been done to his corpse. Some living thing was inside of him. Nat had caught sight of it crawling in his friend's mouth through parted blue lips. There had been blood and pus everywhere. He'd never get rid of the image. No no no never-

The creature crept up the stairs into its nest again. All the while its head brushed the ground like it was…

Smelling.

Did Nat have a traceable scent?

He took the chance. Out through the shop's back door and then down through central Hawkins.

The thing never bounded towards him or pounced on him from a corner. He could hear it chirping and screeching though; noise carried so clearly in the empty air.

The noises he made must too.

Why did he have to scream?

The memory answered that for him.

Every time he thought it, the memory came back. No legs. Bony stubs. Coated slime.

He'd crawled through that tree because of the horrible sense that something terrible had happened to his best friend. He hadn't been wrong. But there was nothing he could have done in here. Bart was gone.

Bart was gone.

Nat felt like wailing again. Only desperate self preservation prevented it.

The library had been so dark. It was too overgrown for the ambient blue of this world to really filter in all the way.

He was so grateful for how dark it had been. If he'd seen more details-

It probably would've snapped him apart.

Without thinking, Nat made his way back to the suburbs of Hawkins and then to the emptier roads of Loch Nora. He'd come into this nightmare from Steph's backyard. The chance that he could leave it from there was the only hope he really felt.

Hours drifted by agonizingly slow. Nat didn't find a way out. He saw ghastly sights in the darkness and behind his own eyelids; imaginations he could not be rid of.

He was near Steph's house when he heard something new.

The monster had roared.

Nat sprinted; not, in opposition to common sense, away from the noise but towards it.

Vines slapped up on his sprinting legs. A few forced him to stumble but he couldn't spend too long worrying about them. The creature was upset. That could mean good news for him. It could mean that maybe, just maybe, it had been hunting-

and this time its prey had gotten away.

It was worth looking into.

He almost ran into her.

The other human gave a yelp at the sound he made as he drew up short on the roots and tendrils. Whoever it was, they were shorter than him. He didn't get a good look at their face but threw a finger up to his lips to mimic the universal 'shush'ing gesture.

It didn't stop the newcomer from stammering out a quiet "-w-what-", one that sounded decidedly female, before she caught herself.

Still too much. Nat brought his right hand down from his mouth to the branch again. His left hand already had a death grip on the makeshift weapon. The flash of pale flicker through the trees ahead. It was growling, that strange deep chirping call of its. The sound was so alien and repulsive and yet still froze his muscles in place. Each step it made was slow and deliberate as it moved between trees. It was searching.

It had to be searching through sound. It _had_ to be. What else could be alerting it to their presence?

Nat's grip tightened in determination. This thing had already taken too many people. He wasn't going to let it take the first human he'd seen in what felt like a far too long isolation.

The stranger seemed to agree. She lifted her hands up and Nat caught sight of metal held between them.

She'd brought a gun.

His stick felt suddenly inadequate. But he hadn't known what he was dealing with when he'd come in here. It seemed she had known and prepared.

Did this mean Hawkins knew about this... _place_?

Questions for later. Right now he needed to get himself and the newcomer away from the monster.

The creature stopped moving and a tree next to it began to creak. The bark slid apart until the glow of red remained. It slipped its skinny body into the membrane and Nat realized-

That. That was what he came in through. He could get out now! Nat cast a glance at the other frantically to see if she was making towards their doorway. But this time it was gone too fast.

The tree was solid again.

And there was a ripping sound, a wet tearing, just feet away in the opposite direction. One hand of claws shot from a different tree and grabbed its side blindly. Then the faceless mouth pushed through and the body followed. It didn't charge them but gave out another one of those low growls.

_Come on boys and girls! Come and play with me._

_Your parents aren't around. Would you like some candy?_

Right. Said a lion to a cat. What was it about predators, alien or otherwise, that made them make so many noises for their intended prey?

The chitters didn't die out but it still didn't seem to know where they were. As it searched through the forest and got steadily further from them, Nat made his move. He let go of his staff with his left hand and used it to wave. The other human turned her head to see what he was signing.

That jacket. It was the same jean coat she always wore to school; that coat with the same turtleneck underneath. Dark eyes that wouldn't make contact.

He'd stumbled across Johanna Byers.

* * *

"Tell me again," John sat down at the little round table and pushed a plate of toast at the woman already seated.

His daughter hadn't returned that night. It had taken hours for either of them to remember that today had been the funeral. Jane had an excuse; she'd been drugged and slept half the day away. That was disorienting even without the sedatives involved.

But for John to have forgotten that his daughter had organized a funeral for her living sister? That rubbed and rubbed away at him. He always did that. He always tried to rub his esteem raw.

Instead of the burnt toast, John grabbed the smoldering cigarette in the ashtray and inhaled in desperation. It eased up the fraying esteem and let him give a steadier exhale.

"I told you everything I saw," Jane said. One finger pushed at the plate and her frown directed down at the untouched breakfast. "So, what'll it be? Upstairs or downstairs?"

True, downstairs was more interesting. More horrifying.

What Jane had explained seemed like proof about the sinister side of this entire debacle. It seemed more like the thing that had crawled through his wall, a different category altogether than corrupt statesmen covering their dirty work up. Neither had any answers for what the thing Jane had seen could have been. Her descriptions seemed hard to recall; likely an effect of the sedatives. But even the vague recounting was enough to rivet her listener to his spot in subdued, confused horror.

_"Do you...remember...that sound in your shed?" Jane had asked slowly. Both were seated on the couch and he couldn't help but wish the lights had been put up once more. At John's nod, she'd gazed off in the direction of the door._

It felt like so long ago now. A surreal moment in a tragic day. Now everything was surreal; the tragedy tied to reality seemed untouchable while it lay buried under monsters and lights and growling growths buried underground.

_"It made that noise. Whatever that was, whatever this is," she gestured around and he caught the growl of anger in her undertone, "It's connected. It's been connected this whole time. I just wish-"_

_The frustration made her cut off. John found his hands wringing in his lap but he stayed silent._

Both of them had been frustrated last night. By the time he'd gone to bed, John felt even more on edge than before. The sound of Johanna returning never came. Jane thought she was quiet, but he could hear the noise she caused while she paced in the living room. Where he worried, she raged.

_"I wish I could see all the pieces."_

The wet noise in the shed. The growls on the phone line. The faceless thing from the wall.

John wished alongside her that he could see those hidden answers.

But with all the surreality that lay under the government lab, he was more focused on the lab itself. He didn't want to turn this into a search for the supernatural. He wanted it to be a search for his little girl.

"Upstairs," John said. Upstairs was the lab. The lab was the government. The government were the people that had done something to Willow. The monsters or aliens or whatever they were could all be damned if it was actually humans that were responsible for what happened to his daughter.

"There was some sort of laboratory," Jane brushed his fingers when he set the cigarette into the ashtray and she picked it up for herself. Her sentence paused while she smoked and John was left impatiently remembering what they'd talked about last night. She'd mentioned some sort of lab and testing last night, he was sure of it, but both had been distracted by what was in the basement. "There was this kids room."

Wait.

"How'd you know it was a kid's room?" John sat up and leaned forward. Jane leaned back and her brows rose unimpressed at his frantic passion.

"It was more like a prison-"

"Then why would you think it was a kid's room?" he interrupted. False hope was a nightmare in its own category. If all these calls, these lights, the fake body, if all just amounted to false hope…

"Because, I told you," Jane growled, "The size of the bed, there was a drawing, there was stuffed animal-"

Once again, John interrupted her.

"You didn't say there was a drawing," he stammered. Already, his mind was spinning. Could it? Could it have been Willow? That didn't feel right. It may make some sense, but it didn't feel right at all. She was in the lights. She'd been here, in the house. How could she have been if she was locked up in a lab?

"Yeah, there was a drawing of-" Jane gestured with her hands repeatedly, trying to find the descriptions, "Of an adult and a child. It said '11' on it."

Who cared what it said? What mattered was the style. The quality.

"Was it good?" he pressed, "The drawing, was it good?"

Jane tried to dismiss it as a 'kid's drawing' made of stick figures and-

John knew. She didn't yet, she was evidently getting frustrated about him in fact, but that was all the information John needed to know. He pushed from his chair, marched to Willow's room to grab the top picture from her desk, and slammed it down on the kitchen table.

"Wasn't Will."

His finger pointed down at the drawing and Jane's eyes followed down it to the crayon figures drawn below.

Willow had grown past stick figures in the first grade. She was his little artist, always was.

"Beth was a friend of mine," Jane sighed. John leaned away and sat back down. The toast still lay untouched between them. "I went digging. I asked the cops questions. I wanted to find out who killed her."  
"I thought it was a…"

"Suicide?" she looked up unblinkingly. "Not Beth's style."

Murder then. Murder and kidnapping and monsters. What had happened to Hawkins?

"Forest and Powell questioned Earl and a few others while I was working. It's a small desk, you know. I may have heard it all."

At that, Jane smirked and it reminded him of so many other times she'd done so. High school. Weekends. Small misdemeanors and even more they were never caught for.

"What did you hear?"

The woman leaned forward conspiratorially

"Earl said the night Beth died, there was some kid with a shaved head in her diner. Now, Forest pressed him and he said it might have been Willow but what if…"

And there it was. The reason he had left town last night. The reason dug up already by Jane from the library files. All this time, he'd been prodding her for what she'd found yesterday. Now, it was finally his turn to talk about what he had found.

"Terry Ives is catatonic." John shook his head, remembering the secondhand memory being with Becky had made him feel. "He couldn't talk to me at all about the child. His sister, Becky, she's his caretaker now. She doesn't seem to believe the kid he'd sued the department over had lived."

That didn't mean a thing though. Not when the world was upside down; not when things without faces broke into his own living room, tanked five bullets, and left no trace of itself or his daughter behind.

"Do you think?"

"Everything else this lab has covered up?" Jane laughed sardonically. "I don't think either of us would be surprised."

But John couldn't help but smile a nervous, but less sarcastic, smile of his own. It felt relieving to get more information; even if it meant another kid was in trouble just like Willow.

They were figuring this out. And they'd chase the source right back to where his child, and Terry Ives missing boy, was being hidden.

"Thank you, Jane," he said, "I wouldn't have been able to get into the lab or any of this without you."

"Hop," she cut across. "I prefer my nickname these days."

_With friends,_ came unsaid, _With people I care about._

He gave a smile she didn't return, but John wasn't offended by it.

The moment was interrupted by a pounding on the door. Both jumped and it made John slightly amused that he wasn't the only one to reach for an empty belt. Then Ja- _Hop_ prickled up and asked him, "Who?"

"Johanna…" the father answered and then bolted for the door.

"Careful!" Hop barked after him, "Could be agents."

Could be, yes, but it could be his daughter and that was more important than paranoia. John reached the door while the rapping outside picked up again and slid it open enough to see outside.

He should have known it wasn't her. Johanna wouldn't knock. If she forgot her key, then at the least she wouldn't knock loudly.

And it wasn't her. It was a different teenage girl and both looked equally as unnerved to see the other.

* * *

The backpack was dumped onto her bed. Its zipper was ripped open and the contents emptied out onto the comforter. Then Lucy lifted her replacement supplies into it. Swiss army knife. Bandage wraps and rubbing alcohol. A compass. Stones for the wrist rocket. Water bottles.

There was a camo bandanna laying on the comforter too. Lucy wrapped it around her head. This was serious business and she was going to be prepared for it. The others could mess around all they liked, but Lucy was going to bring Willow back.

Her dad's old belt, with its three canvas pouches on it, was strapped on her waist. The backpack still sat open and Lucy hesitated to finish packing it up. This still felt wrong; she didn't like leaving without her friends. But her dad had gone into 'Nam and back, her mom had worked two jobs in a small town place like Hawkins regardless of the prejudice she face- who was she if not the product of her brave parents? She'd do it. She could do it.

"Playing war?"

Lucy looked over her shoulder at her father. He'd snuck into her doorway without her noticing while she had rifled through his stuff.

"Oh, yeah," she muttered and shoved another compass into her backpack. The bandanna on her head suddenly felt silly to wear. And here only seconds before it had felt so cool. "My friends and I are gonna go out and play."

No they wouldn't. Because Mikaela was mad at her and Dusty was siding with the sullen girl.

Even after they both watched the weirdo throw her across the junkyard.

She hoped her dad wouldn't notice the bruises on her left arm from where it had smacked against some rustbucket of a car. No parent liked to see their kid with bruises as wide and tender as those still were.

Although at the least, he wouldn't be that surprised. Eric was her younger brother after all- and before the kid had decided it wasn't cool to hang out with his older sister, they both would roughhouse and had fallen out of who knows how many trees to their bruising doom below.

His footsteps padded across the carpet until he stood above her.

"Can you girls stay nearby?" his voice asked from up there and Lucy couldn't bring herself to look up out of worry her face would reveal any lies she would say.

"We will," Lucy lied twofold.

Her dad's hand ruffled her braids and caught on the camo bandanna. They hooked under the material and he chuckled.

"My little girly-o," he reached over to hug her to himself, "Off to the wars already, doing her dear old dad proud-"

"Dad!" Lucy couldn't stop her own laugh. She fought off his hands as they kept playing with his old bandanna.

Suddenly he had knelt next to her so that his tall stature was brought down on eye level with her. His lips were still quirked up under his bushy mustache but he looked more sober than his joking implied.

"I'm glad you're going to play. You've tried to grow up so fast. It's nice to just see you be the kid you still are. And it can't be easy right now. Not after Willow Byers. I just- I hope," he sighed, "You keep holding onto the other two. You're all going to need each other right now. It's never easy to lose a friend, but it should never happen to someone your age."

Willow wasn't dead. Lucy wanted to say it.

But there was no absolute certainty they could get her back. And besides. Besides, it wouldn't do any good to not let her dad talk.

He'd made friends with many of his comrades. Many of them hadn't made it back. He'd made friends after the war and some of them had died as well. Kye Rolland had gotten into a car accident. Lucas Sinclair, her namesake and her dad's cousin, had overdosed on drugs.

No, Lucy had never been sheltered from the death around her. But not being sheltered didn't make death something unphaseable. Her dad got hurt every time someone around him died and he'd caused death before as a soldier.

"Play safe?" he tried to offer another grin. Lucy smiled back and nodded.

"We will," she tried to promise, despite knowing what she was planning to do. The zipper on the backpack was zipped up again and she huffed as she hefted the heavy bag on. Still at her side, her dad shook his head in amusement at how much gear she had strapped to herself. Absently, he ruffled the top of head again.

"Make sure to play fair and have fun."

Lucy leaned up on tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

"'Course I will daddy."

Then she bounced from the room and tried not to think about whether she would be in danger. The girl pulled her bike from the garage and rifled through the front pouch of her belt until she pulled out one of the compasses she'd packed; it was strapped to the handlebars with tape and then she walked the bike up to the road.

The only other person around was a serviceman climbing out of a van. He saw her and offered an amiable wave, shutting the door and moving to the back of his car after she'd waved back. Then she swung over the teal metal onto the uncomfortable metal seat of the bike and pedalled away.

It took some time to reach her first roadblock in the search.

The compass directed her to a fence. She tried to walk her bike around the corner of the fence and saw with growing frustration that the compass still directed her to whatever lay inside.

Lucy tightened the sweaty bandanna that had slipped down her forehead and slid off her bike. So what if some old fence told her to stay out? She'd still see what she was up against.

The girl found the nearest look oak tree that branched out over the fence with a good viewpoint and began to climb.

From up here, she could at least see where this so called 'gate' might be. Balancing on the thick branch, Lucy slid her backpack off and hooked it to a stub in the tree trunk so that she could rifle through it until-

Aha.

Binoculars. She pulled the device free and scanned the area.

There was a big building. It had all sorts of windows and grids but nothing about it seemed particularly magical. A few people in suits were walking to and fro what was likely to be the entrance; it was hard to tell with all the leaves and trees in the way. Above them were huge satellite dishes and radio antennas. She kept looking around, waiting to see something remotely 'gate'-like in the area.

She saw something else instead.

An armoured truck. The kind you'd see in the military. It drove past a parking lot and Lucy felt her breath catch at what she saw there. Vans. White and blue vans.

Just like the one she'd seen at her house earlier.

Vans loading up. Men in suits, men in armor. Men armed and those driving.

Certainly not electricians.

The three Power & Light vehicles started up and peeled single file from the area.

And Lucy couldn't help but feel a horrible suspicion that she knew what, or rather who, they were headed after.

_Bad men,_ the weirdo had said.

There was no chance she'd let those 'bad men' get near her friends.

* * *

They retreated all the way until it was Steph's house looming up over them. Johanna seemed uneasy to see the place. Or more uneasy than she seemed about everything. Nat couldn't blame her. Nothing here made sense and it most certainly didn't when he'd first arrived.

With his lead, the two teens slid into the house and waited with their gazes plastered to the outside. Minutes passed. The roars sounded a few more times, each one loud in the windless air but seemingly no closer.

"What-" Johanna's voice broke the silence worriedly. Nat felt himself give a sigh of relief at the sound. A human voice! Who knew the effect a single voice could have on someone's relief. He certainly hadn't before now. "W-what was that-that _thing_?"

"Right," Nat pulled the other teen away from the window and back stepped towards the stairs. He let out a held breath when he heard nothing else following. "That'd be Ribsy."

It took a moment for Johanna to respond.

"R...ribsy?"

Ah.

"The thing. Monster. Whatever it is."

It wasn't like he could go around just referring to it as 'the thing/creature' in his mind any more than he could outloud. That would get too confusing.

"But-" Johanna bit her lip. "But what _is_ i-it?"

Question of the week, wasn't it?

"I don't know," he rattled out the admission. "Some kind of monster. It-it's been…"

Could he talk about this? Could he?

But this was Johanna Byers. She deserved to hear what was happening. It was her little sister that had started this. Nat couldn't even begin to imagine what it would be like to find out this creature was hunting Mikaela or Howard. Or rather he could- his mind supplied all the images of the nest and of Bart and pictured his family there and it made him sick.

"Hunting people," Nat finished with a hard swallow. "It has got this nest and it has been-it's been eating people and animals."

Her face was pinched. The gun was still held in both of her hands.

"And...my sister?" she asked in a smaller voice than her whispers already had been.

No false hope. No false hope.

"I haven't seen her yet," he said. "I don't know."

At that, Johanna's jaw clenched. He wasn't sure about it, but Nat was pretty sure the expression he was seeing was determination. It was so very different than nervous fear. But he supposed there was no time for social anxieties here. This was a situation without society. Prey hiding from predator.

"Wait!"

The realization struck so fast he was disappointed in himself for not asking before. "How? How'd you get in here?"

Was there a way in and out that didn't only appear temporarily for the monster itself? Could he get out of here?

"There was a-a tree. Dripping. Making _sounds_. And bl-blood. From the deer. An injured d-deer. I th-thought it was dragged through. I had to follow, I ha-I had to find out where Will was-"

It sounded defensive but Nat couldn't even argue with her decision. She at least had come looking for her sister prepared.

"Is this...tree...still open?" Nat couldn't contain his excitement. Johanna's sour face turned even more pinched.

"N-no. I should have gone back, I-I know, I watched it close and it was slow e-enough but Will is here, I know it, she's here-"

So was Bart. And Bart was dead.

Nat really hoped the little girl wasn't too.

"We can look for her," he offered and Johanna's face lit up. "We can wait for a while to make sure Ribsy isn't around and then go look for her. But we're going to need to know two things."

"W-what?"

Nat lifted up a hand and let a finger rise for both points.

"One, how it operates. I can't see eyes or a nose or ears but somehow it finds people. Two, how we can get out. If we find your sister but can't find a way out, we can't do much good."

The other teen nodded.

"We-we thought maybe it hunts at n-night?" she offered. This time, it was Nat who nodded.

"I think so. I think it doesn't like the light. Did you get a good look at it? I haven't been able to tell if it has eyes."

Johanna shivered. It was a reaction he could share quite well.

"I didn't see eyes. Just a m-mouth and teeth. But if it hunts, how come it hasn't caught you?"

Steph probably would've said something cocky. Her friends absolutely would have.

"I don't know," Nat admitted. "And it hasn't tracked us down to here yet either. So there has to be something about this we're missing."

For the next few minutes then, the two brainstormed. The last time Nat had talked with her was at the school when he'd been trying to reassure her over Willow. Now, both were plotting about the creature they'd fallen down the rabbit hole with.

And her side of the story left Nat with even worse feelings about their odds.

"Your dad shot it? And it's fine?"

Johanna had only frowned off to the side.

"T-that's what she said too, but a gun still felt l-like the best choice."

Which led to the other question that had been building since she'd first said 'we thought it hunts at night'.

"Who?" Nat asked. It made the other teen look up to his shoulder instead of the table where both were kneeling on the dirty ground by.

"O-oh. Um. Harrington. Your girlfriend."

Steph? She was involved?

"How did she find out about this thing?" he couldn't stop himself from asking.

Johanna looked very, very uncomfortable. Her silence became awkward.

"Never mind," Nat waved a hand, "Back to how it hunts. What do you think made you find it today?"

It took her a few seconds to catch on that the subject had changed. Then she started up again with the same kind of determination as she had before Steph had been brought up.

"It was night. There was this-this deer. It was hurt. We-I was about to shoot it but then it just-"

She made a little whooshing noise and accompanied the sound with a two handed gesture. Nat found it all dorky in an endearing way.

"Disappeared. I saw the tree and th-thought it may have been where the deer was dragged. And when I cra-came through, I saw the thing eating it. I was so close to just g-going back then or yelling for help but-"

And again came that determined stare.

"I couldn't mess up my on-one chance to find Will."

Nat mulled it over.

So, Ribsy had been after Johanna and whoever she was with. It had been after the deer.

It hadn't caught him yet. But it caught the hunter and Bart and the animals already in its nest.

What was the difference?

He asked as much and both went silent to think.

It was Nat who spoke up again first.

Just one word. A word said in slow dread and the thrill that somehow he was right.

"Blood."

Johanna had cocked her head to the side.

"What?"

But Nat was growing in confidence now. Despite the danger, he spoke up louder.

"Blood! The deer, it was injured right?"

She nodded.

"The dead hunter, maybe he'd gotten the animal he was shooting's blood on him. And Bart…He had cut himself earlier in the night. Maybe-"

In his excitement, he pushed himself up onto his knees further and set his hands on the table to gesticulate. "Maybe it's like a shark. It can smell the injured somehow far better than it can smell the uninjured. That's why I haven't been found yet!"

And her small voice piped up immediately after "that's why Will hasn't been caught yet either."

And if her story about her dad and the lights and the wall were all true? Then the teen's words weren't unlikely.

* * *

It was Johanna's hope that they go after her sister right away. But neither knew where to start.

They had theorized about how the monster hunted and where they both were now. That didn't offer a very concrete starting place to look for Willow.

All they had to go on was that the girl had been at the Byers house for some time but Johanna had told her to hide somewhere safer. Nat hadn't seen her in the monster's nest with the other bodies. That left the entire world other than the library and Byers house as an option.

Before either could start to hunt, Nat had admitted to being exhausted. He'd found the Harrington living room and slept on the couch while Johanna sat with her gun in hand by the window.

It was a restless sleep but still deeper than any he had attempted on his own. Far better than nothing at all.

It ended all too soon.

Nat jerked awake. Both teens looked at each other wildly and asked if the other had heard it.

A call for help from the woods. A weak call for help.

"Was th-that, do you t-think that was Will?" Johanna stammered hopefully. Nat shook his head.

"I don't think so," he admitted regretfully, "It sounded like a man. But we have to help him."

The teen grit her jaw and nodded.

"We do."

With the pistol and the branch held out in front of them, both teens ventured out into the dark and monstrous version of Mirkwood.

* * *

Both had yelled at each other and ran best they could. It didn't stop them from running straight into the kids they were trying to avoid.

Neither Mikaela or Dusty expected the other middle schooler capable of this. It was evident that Tracy's friend Jenni wasn't; the taller girl had been replaced by a boy they'd barely seen around before. It was him who had grabbed Mikaela and pushed her down to the ground; a distraction that Dusty was thoroughly, well, _distracted_ by. The other girl was gaping and shifting around, trying to give Mikaela advice, and in doing so missed the threat behind her.

It was an overreaction. Even had showed Tracy up at school when she had pushed Mikaela to the ground and it seemed the eight grader wanted retribution for what the psychic had done.

_Your turn. Wet yourself._

Willow had supposedly died falling off this cliff. It was a lethal drop, even if urban legends said otherwise. Tracy was asking her to do something fatal.

The switchblade held tight by Dusty's mouth was worse than the drop.

Whoever the boy was, he had grown uncomfortable. He kept trying to tell Tracy to stop. The brunette girl gave him a snarl and that was the only attention offered to his second thoughts.

The guy was big enough to manhandle her away; but Tracy had a practiced hold on the knife and any attempts to fight her would mean disaster for Dusty.

Mikaela would do anything for her friends.

For Willow. For Dusty. For Lucy, absent though she was.

For Even.

She wished he hadn't ran away. She wished all four of them were here.

It sounded like something her mom would tell her off about- if her friends told her to jump off a cliff, would she?

Dusty had a line of red from where her skin had been opened. Tracy was yelling and grinning and threatening her friend.

Mikaela stepped from the cliffside and dropped.

The icy lake below looked like a flat plane. The cold that mattered in the moment wasn't from the water but from the air that hit her bare face like shards. She was falling too fast to take in the gray rock walls, the screams from above her, the looming flat lake underneath.

And then she stopped.

Hanging in midair was far more disturbing than falling. Mikaela whimpered and flailed; she cast a glance up and saw Dusty and the other two standing by the cliffs edge looking shocked at her hovering form.

Then she rose. It was gentle, far slower than the fall thus far had been. It still took her by complete surprise and Mikaela yelled up until the point where she was rolling on solid ground again.

"Holy shit…"

Which kid said it was lost on her. All Mikaela knew was-

There was only one being, one person, one kid in the world with the ability to lift people around without touching.

Where was he?

Dusty had already ran to her side and was pulling her up. Mikaela barely paid her, or the boy who looked torn between coming to her side and running, any attention; she was looking for her rescuer. She was looking for her friend.

Tracy was clenching the switchblade hilt neurotically. Then her attention shot towards the road and Mikaela's gaze followed to see Even.

He was walking towards them. Blood ran down from his nose to his lips but he paid no attention to it. His face was curled into an angry glare directed at the two bullies. Nat's old clothes hung loose and filthy on his marching frame.

"What the-"

Tracy's words cut off with a horrifying crack and then a yell of pain. The sound of breaking bone twisted her gut but after what Tracy had just made her do, Mikaela couldn't help feel a bit of relief.

"My arm!" The switchblade dropped from the now spasming hand. "He broke my arm!"

No shit, dummy. And Mikaela had the awful feeling that Even could do much more.

Even frowned at the other boy standing dumbly still.

"Go," he said. Another word added to his silent vocabulary. Mikaela started smiling through her panting breaths at Even's voice.

Both the bully and the girl who'd fully intended to hurt them turned and ran. Dusty split from Mikaela's side and pointed after them.

"Yeah!" she yelled, "That's right! You better run!"

Even had already stopped glaring at the threats and his face had gone blank. The little psychic boy was wavering on his feet.

"He's our friend and he's crazy!" Dusty shouted.

And he was. Mikaela had decided that the first night she'd met him. But now?

Now her curly haired friend agreed, despite what Lucy had said.

They _were_ friends. They were _all_ friends.

"You come back here and he'll kill you! You hear me? He'll kill you, you bitches! He'll kill you, you hear me?"

Dusty shouts of glee faded to the back of Mikaela's mind as she watched Even waver and drop to the ground. The sullen girl scrambled up to reach her friend's side.

"Even?" Mikaela reached under his shaved head and shook him frantically. "Are you okay? Even?"

There was a little cough beneath him and then Even was speaking up miserably.

"Miki…" he started. "I'm sorry."

For what? For saving her?

That didn't make any sense.

"Sorry? What are you sorry for?"

Shit...The tears showed up in tracks across his filthy face. Mikaela stopped shaking so hard at the unexpected sight of him crying.

"...the gate."

What about it? Dusty had already reached their sides and stood over them uncharacteristically quiet. Both waited for Even to continue.

"I opened it. _I'm_ the monster."

* * *

_AN- In this 'verse, people are on a scale of sorts over how psychically in-tuned they are. For example, Terry Ives was far more sensative than an average person by the end of his experiments. Eleven and 8/Kali both are 'fleas', able to crawl all over the 'line' in Mr. Clarke's theoretical analogy. The more psychically sensitive you are, the more influence you hold over the Upside Down. Eleven is able to reach it, open (on the human side at least, likely the Mindflayer was doing a lot of heavy lifting on the other side to make it happen) the gate, influence electricity, and hear/talk to people across the void. The Demogorgan seems able to psychically open its own mini-gates throughout season 1._  
_Now, in episode 5, Nancy is seen crawling through one such 'mini gate' and as the credits start to roll, it's already closing quickly behind her. Why is it then that in the start of the next episode it's still open and she's able to be pulled through by Jonathan? In this 'verse, it would be because both Byers children are somewhat sensitive. They have the kind of minds that the Mindflayer would find useful in a spy. They're imaginative and a bit off on human standards. Nancy isn't 'sensitive' and so as she's crawling through the doorway, it's already closing at its normal pacing. But when Jonathan is near it, it slows that speed down regardless of what the Demo has set it to shut/open like. Because of that stall, he is able to reach through and pull Nancy back out._  
_Here, Nat crawled through on a separate day and the gate shutting behind him wasn't stalled. When Johanna enters, she mentions that the gate remained open and she could have done what Nancy did in canon and crawled back out. But here Nat didn't get that chance to do as canon Nancy did and here Johanna has far more incentive (mainly her dad's crazed talk about the monster and her sister and her own conversation with Willow) to remain in the Upside Down despite how nightmarish it is than Nancy in canon did._  
_Here, the demo is also able to track Willow down to her house because of this. As mentioned at the start of the chapter, it has a few different senses it uses to hunt. One is hearing. One is smell. And one is psychic. The more 'vivid' the mind (or light, as Terry Ives last chapter would call it), the better the demo can track someone down. Whether this is natural to its species or just a perk of being a scout for the Mindflayer is up to the reader._  
_None of this necessarily applies to canon and only came to be because of how much overthinking I devoted to that ep5 ending with the gate closing rapidly enough that it would have been shut midway through Nancy's running around screaming episode._  
_I've over thought way too many aspects of season 1 just because of this canon rewrite._  
_In other notes, I've waited this whole time to start the Hop-John-Steph team-up and I'm pumped to write them next chapter._


	7. The Bathtub

Separate parties begin to converge as the desperation to find those trapped in the Upside Down runs into resistance from both human and monstrous origins.

_AN- Remember that the timeline flips all over the place in the show's episodes and it does the same here._  
_Some liberties were taken with the comic about Will in the Upside Down regarding the timeline of that comic._  
_As always, unbeta'd so be warned that mistakes ahead are inevitable._

* * *

The silence that descended didn't last long but it felt palpable to all three kids.

Then she broke it with a slow shake of her head.

"No," Mikaela's shakes grew more rapid. "No, Even, you're not the monster. You saved me. Do you understand? _You saved me."_

And then, despite how Even was crying and both of his hands were planted on the ground, she reached around the dirty boy and held him tight. Besides her, Dusty knelt down and wrapped her arms around them both.

And slowly, ever slowly, Even's arms lifted up to join the hug.

All three clung together by the cliffside. All three could hear Dusty's loud proclamations that he was their friend.

Eyes pinched shut, Even felt their hug and their _truth_ and his mouth turned up in a smile.

* * *

"Hey," the Harrington teen waved awkwardly. "Look. We gotta talk."

* * *

They ran through the twisted woods in search of the call. It didn't sound like a girl, let alone someone young, but it did sound human. Unless the monster had learned how to mimic a human voice, there was someone out here.

And they had plans to save them.

"Do you-" Nathaniel stumbled over a batch of roots and then straightened up, "Do you think it came in this direction?"

Johanna couldn't tell. All of these trees and vines twisted together. How could she navigate where one noise came from?

...the monster did.

"We gotta h-hurry," she said through hair, "Before i-it gets there first."

The two teens tripped over more of the living ground. Johanna felt like she was tripping more. It didn't matter that he'd been here longer than she had; this world was having an effect on her. The air stank. The smell made her dizzy. Her vision blurred, her head reeled, her hearing buzzed.

Johanna didn't know if she could keep running in this world much longer. But she refused to give in until she'd found her sister.

_" -h-hel- "_

Their heads shot towards each other. Both pairs of eyes held contact as if they could speak telekinetically without bothering with words. And then both spoke up at once.

"It was this way!"

"I-I think I heard it over-"

Nathaniel gave a little laugh. Then he waved for her to follow as he ran towards where they'd both heard the noise coming from.

"Th-that's not quite it-" Johanna tried to say as she simultaneously tried to keep up with up. The other teen just waved again.

"Come'n, trust me will y…"

The joking demeanor faded. Nathaniel had stopped running and was just standing still. It didn't take long for Johanna to catch up and see what he'd found.

There was another human in here. An older man, nestled on the slimy ground cover. He had what seemed to be a green jacket on, though it was hard to tell when so much of everything looked blue-gray; a jacket like a hunter would have on.

But Johanna wasn't looking at the clothes. She was busy looking at the blood. The jacket was torn up around the abdominal area and all she could see was- was- was what she shouldn't be able to.

The girl felt suddenly grateful her dad was a veteran; the stories and flashbacks and even the occasional hunting trip had let the whole Byers family know exactly how life could end.

And this man? He didn't have much life left in him.

"He...help…"

How the hell had he even called for help before? Unless it was when-

Right.

Then he hadn't been in this world as long as they had. But something, someone, else had been more tempting to the creature than finishing this man off.

That split jaw mouth didn't deal its wounds very cleanly. The wound at his stomach was joined by one around his shoulder and one of the hands raised towards both of them was shredded.

The nausea waved through her. Just because her dad had let her know what death was and the best ways to deal it out in a life or death situation didn't mean she wanted more exposure. The very idea of hunting and killing a rabbit made her uneasy. Seeing a mangled human was just…

Shocking, actually. She was in shock.

_(that's the reason you're not panicking yet, it's got to be)_

The jacket was torn where the skin was. Its frayed material was hard to distinguish from skin in the bloody mess.

"He...hello?" she dropped down near the stranger. His mangled hand was still up in the air. She was surprised he had the strength to keep it suspended. "Are y-you okay?"

_(stupid, stupid, 'course he wasn't, why go asking that?)_

The futility of the question didn't seem to register to the man.

"Dale…" he coughed, "Hurt bad. Hunting...in the woods. Something...some _**thing **_grabbed us."

Nathaniel had come over and crouched next to her. His hands twitched on the ground like he wanted to reach, to help, to heal.

It wasn't going to happen.

"Its _face_… " the hunter breathed in panicked urgency. The words became a mantra of horrified disbelief.

"Yeah," Nathaniel spoke up with false cheeriness. His hand had finally stopped twitching in indecision and had placed itself on his knee-

There was no leg beneath it.

_(oh, so there's that sickness)_

"Dale-" the stranger said. The stump of his hand tried to take Nat's and Johanna could see how the teen shivered in shock at the cold wet blood. "Help...help Dale."

_(How? How do you expect us to?)_

"We will," Johanna found herself saying.

_(empty, empty promises- just a fancied up lie)_

"We'll all get home," Nathaniel promised with far more brass than her quiet mutter had.

That could have been it. That could have been the last lie needed to let the hunter fade out in some sense of relief.

But the cries, the voices, the noise-

Noise carried in here. And the thing with no visible ears had heard their calls.

* * *

It didn't feel important enough to open the door and step aside but John did it wordlessly. Without the confidence so normally inherent to her family, Harrington stepped into the Byers house. Her mouth parted and brows furrowed up in confusion; first at Hop's frowning presence, standing with arms crossed in the kitchen doorway, and then at the decor of the place.

"Yeah?" the woman said impatiently. "We're busy with a case here. What's so important you have to talk right now?"

Harrington's face lost the confusion to frown right back at Hop.

"It's about-" she glanced over at him and swallowed, "Um, about your daughter."

Oh.

"Willow?" John went wide eyed. News? Already he and Hop had found so much about the lab but nothing about Wi-

"No," Harrington shook her head.

A sinking feeling dragged all that hope away.

"...J-Johanna?"

Standing out of place in his ruined living room, Harrington fiddled with her hands and looked down at them.

"Yeah."

...oh.

* * *

They'd returned to the Wheeler house only briefly. Then, Lucy's frantic call had come in and the kids had fled to Elm and Cherry to regroup with their fourth.

Not that Lucy could do anything about their pursuers. The lab guys were in _vans_ and they were on _bikes_.

The stream of "shits" coming from Dusty's mouth while they pedaled seemed duly justified.

Then a van had come around the corner and none of the kids could brake fast enough.

Which didn't matter.

The vehicle flew up into the air. It crashed down somewhere behind them. They couldn't really slow down to check. It was bad enough that they'd slowed to all glance over at the one boy of their group.

Even swiped a hand under a bleeding nose and looked resolutely forward- resolutely _not_ at the suited woman who'd stepped from one of the now barricading vans to glare their way.

The little group pedaled all the way to the scrapheap before they burst out with all the pent up exclamations they'd been waiting to express.

But it was Lucy's statement, the "awesome" she delivered while interrupting the others, that sealed the deal.

"It was awesome," she panted (granted, they were all panting) "Everything I said, 'bout you being a traitor and stuff...I was wrong."

None could exactly deny that the van flipping overhead was awesome. But to hear it said by Lucy meant that the behavior of late was both forgiven and apologies were inbound.

"I'm sorry," the girl said. And Even worried his lip before speaking up slowly.

"Friends...Friends don't lie. I'm sorry too."

And then Mikaela was stepping up and apologizing as well until all of their group were good with each other.

Which meant it was the perfect time for life to interrupt.

The hum of a helicopter forced them all into panicked action. The bikes were shoved under the old bus and then all four pushed their way into the ancient vehicle in hopes that the search in the air would miss their presence.

* * *

The crunch of roots underfoot was still probably a distance away but Johanna heard it. She sprung up to her feet. The pistol shook as it pointed through the dark between trees. Monsters, the lot of them. Everything here. The air, the spores, the ground, it all wanted to eat them.

Nathaniel and her could run. But the hunter could not.

_(eventually, neither teen would be able to either. Her sister wouldn't. Eventually they'd all be too weak and then THERE like that they'd be devoured by this carnivorous world)_

He knew it. The peace from their promise was gone. His chest was pumping up and down frantically. His eyes were all whites that glistened so visibly in the world of darkness.

"G-g..gun…" he stammered out from the ground.

His eyes weren't on the space between trees where the monster would soon be charging into view. It was on her hands; on the weapon in her hands.

"It doesn't work!" Nathaniel swore. He had jumped up as well. There was so much panic from him too.

It hit her that she was reading his emotional state without the clarity of her lens.

But the shared panic they all felt was all too easy to detect.

The man slumped down more. The tree he leaned up against seemed to breath but it could've been a trick of the senses. The way the ground seemed to converge on the injured man, roots moving, bark reaching, dirt lifting- ready to keep him there, ready for the monster to do its work, ready to consume-

"'m sorry," she tried to apologize. The pistol had to be even more hope than their empty promises had led to. But both hopes were false.

The monster would be here momentarily. It would come and start with the man bleeding; start with the easy prey. But if they were still around then they would be next.

"We-" Johanna said to Nathaniel and then quieted further with guilt as the hunter tried to catch her words as well. "We have to go."

Saying the words felt like handing down the death sentence itself. But she had to live! She had to live to find Willow and get back to dad and apologize to him for _everything_-

She had to.

"Gun," the hunter tried to point again. When Johanna looked back at his slumped form, there was a new edge to his stare. She couldn't read what it was.

"I..I can't. Dale..find him. Save him. But-"

No. No. No.

_(Don't say it)_

_(Oh please don't say it)_

But she'd already thought it. The weight of the pistol was all too present. Nathaniel's descriptions of what he'd found in the nest. Johanna had though it; she'd known it before he finished his broken sentences. Dying at that hunting thing's claws was unthinkable. The teens couldn't just leave the other human here to be butchered at its hands.

"For me-Too...too late. G-just give me...give the gun. I can-I can't...don't let it get me…"

Nat had confusion all over his face. He didn't get it yet.

But her dad would get it. He said he'd done it before. No medic. Interogation or a slow death by natural means ahead. No way to transport the fallen comrade.

He'd do it. The teen next to her couldn't. Nathaniel was a cul-de-sac kid. He'd never held a gun most likely, let alone shot someone. Hell, he'd probably never even killed an animal-

Johanna made her way back over to him with jerky motions. She was a puppet now, moving at the whim of the strings above her limbs.

It couldn't be her looking down at him, holding the gun out to him, watching as his shredded hand couldn't take the weapon-

It couldn't be.

The monster was crashing through the woods. The sound was so much nearer. There wasn't time for this.

The hunter was fumbling with the barrel of the pistol, his eyes darting to the trees and back up at her. The stump of a finger pressed at the cover of the trigger; pressed against her finger.

Johanna pulled.

Somewhere nearby, the monster roared. Whether in response to getting close or a response at hearing the noise of the gunshot, she couldn't tell. Figuring out the nonverbal language of a human was hard enough; no way was she going to try to decipher a monsters.

What was she thinking?

_(She wasn't- you aren't)_

It was everywhere. Bone and brain and blood-

Oh, oh, what-

She couldn't scream. The monster could hear noises. It would find her and then Nathaniel. And she'd shot so that they would both live.

Then why couldn't she move? _Why couldn't she move?_

Something grabbed her hand and her shriek never left her lips. It was Nathaniel. But Johanna's hand was warm. Disgustingly warm- it was from the traces of blood- He couldn't touch it. Dirty, dirty, filthy.

He was tugging her with the hand and she finally let herself be pulled away. The pounding of steps kept getting closer. The creature was heavy enough that its feet seemed to break through the hollow roots and clear strings with audible snaps. Snaps and crunches getting far too loud for comfort.

Nathaniel pulled them both from the scene as the monster burst forth on it. Johanna looked back and saw it as she and the boy pulling her along ran. Down on all fours it looked like the animal it was. But it rose up to two legs and that image was just as horrid, just as wrong.

_(had it used that human mimicry to lure Willow into this place?)_

The head split apart but it wasn't to chase them down.

It seemed Nathaniel's theory was right. Blood was the answer. It could hear, but blood was more enticing or palpable. The monster wouldn't be coming after the noise their running created; it was far busier with its own feast.

They ran all the way from Mirkwood to the Harrington house again. Johanna knew she shouldn't want to be here; something to do with a mistake she'd made, her camera, another social mess up-

But she couldn't feel it. She couldn't reach those thoughts. She couldn't reach herself.

Everything was panicking and yet mindless, mindless but full of memories, one set of memories- blood, blood and bone, stale colors in a colorless world

She'd seen someone die and left their body to be eaten.

It was so unreal that she couldn't feel the horror. It was so terrifying that she couldn't feel herself.

Her dad would know what to do right now. He'd know what to say, he would've been able to save the hunter- hell, he'd have saved her sister by now. If he was here there'd be comfort and none of these decisions she'd been forced to make and-and-

If she was alone, it would be over. Johanna couldn't think straight right now. If she was alone, she wouldn't have been able to move and the monster would have gotten her.

A warmth pressed up against her shivering side. Nathaniel's hand in hers clenched tight. She could feel him shaking. But he was there.

"Are you…"

She shook her head before he'd even finished the sentence.

"N-no. No, I'm n-not alright."

He didn't press for more. But he hadn't taken his hand out of hers even though it was marred with the hunter's blood. He wasn't her dad or even her mom. He wasn't her little sister.

Hell if he wasn't someone important though.

"Would you be okay if I..?" the teen started up hesitantly. "Do you want a hug?"

Johanna Byers didn't take hugs from people that weren't her family. It wasn't that she hated touching (she was rather neutral on all that) but because it always seemed to imply either some sort of social intimacy she couldn't reciprocate or was a bribe to get favors later. She didn't tend to trust people didn't have those two motivations in mind. Not being able to interact with people had led to the first worry. Her mom had caused the other.

Sounded comforting right now

_(comfort, comfort, she didn't deserve comfort)_

_(thinking that won't help you, won't help him either when he's dead now)_

If she was alone, Johanna wouldn't have wanted to leave the forest where she'd shot the gun.

But she wasn't alone.

Nathaniel's arms crushed around her. He was still shivering. It was impossible to tell in this lighting, but he seemed paler than usual; sick, perhaps. They both could be sick. They'd never not be after living in this world.

Johanna let herself cry without caring if the noise from the breakdown would attract the monster.

* * *

John led the way to the kitchen table once more. With a grunt, Hop slipped down into a seat and he followed. The teen grabbed a chair and flopped onto it. Now that he had a chance to get a look at her, John noticed that she looked exhausted. Her clothes had twigs stuck on them and there wasn't any of the usual makeup most teens tended to plaster onto themselves.

"Who are you?" she demanded of Hop. The woman shared a glance with John before answering.

"I'm with the police."

"You're a cop?" Harrington sounded either impressed or incredulous. She soon remembered that she wasn't here to answer to Hop. She was here to explain to John why exactly his eldest daughter was not home.

"This is gonna sound crazy," Harrington started. Neither adult changed their expression. Hop's crossed arms looked very unimpressed.

Both had been living 'crazy' recently.

"Try us," Hop prompted.

Harrington took a deep breath. She reached down into her purse and then pulled something free.

"I think-" the teen tried, "I think there may be some sort of... creature in Hawkins. Your daughter caught a picture of something in my backyard-"

"Wha-When?" John interrupted. What had Johanna been doing at the Harrington house? How much did he not know about his own daughter?

The teen looked uncomfortable.

"Um. Tuesday night, I was having a party and she was…"

For a moment it seemed like Harrington was pausing to craft some sort of lie.

"-looking for her sister. Didn't see her, obviously, but it looked like she caught a picture of some thing else. Take a look."

The gray paper she'd taken from the purse was then slid over the table towards John. It seemed like Hop was going to grab at it but the woman waited for the father to take a look first.

It didn't really look like anything. Unless he squinted and looked at it dif-

"That's it."

That got Hop's attention. Harrington also perked up in her chair, as if she was glad to not be dismissed as crazy. It hardly mattered. What mattered was that John had proof now. That was what he'd seen; what had crawled through his wall. What he'd shot at.

"That's it!" John slid it to Hop. It barely registered that his hand was shaking when he did so. The other adult took it and looked it over while he talked. "It's what came here! The faceless thing, that's it- that's it!"

He was repeating himself, he knew it, but John couldn't stop. So far they'd only had each others memories to go by. This was a photograph. A human could hallucinate. A camera could not.

"...so you already believe me?" Harrington asked as if shocked. He'd forgotten she was even here. But her question brought back all the concern he'd momentarily forgotten.

"Where's Johanna?"

The mood of the room dropped again.

"We, uh," Harrington swallowed, "We kind of sort of went looking for whatever that is last night."

No.

No, she couldn't do something so _stupid_.

"You did what?" John breathed out lowly. Across from him, Hop was frowning far more dramatically.

"We didn't go empty handed or anything!" Harrington tried to laugh. "She brought a gun-"

She did what? Where had his daughter even gotten one?

From the attic. From him. From his gear while he wasn't even home with her to keep her from stealing one.

"We went out in my backyard 'cause. Well. I think my boyfriend ran into trouble out there. He and his friend both disappeared by my house and left their cars there, 'cept that on the news it looked like the cars got found-"

Hop exchanged a meaningful glance with John. The lab was meddling there too. This had spread to more than just Willow. Willow and…

"Where's my daughter?" John interrupted shakily. "Where's Johanna?"

'Right." The teen grimaced. "We went out there together and...You know what, I don't know. I don't know what happened. One minute we were together and then all of a sudden she was gone. Just up and disappeared."

Damn it all. John let out a shaky exhale and then found his head just inches from the table top. He couldn't breathe. One hand started patting for a cigarette, for anything, for any habit that could take the edge off this suffocation-

"I'm sorry! Really, I had no idea- I'm sorry-" Harrington leaned forward.

The teen cut off at a poignant glare from Hop. The woman had leaned towards John but was staring at Harrington.

"What the hell were you even thinking, kid?" she snarled.

There wasn't an answer other than a few splutters.

"I've seen plenty of stupid in my life, but that really-"

Whatever Hop was about to say, Harrington was speaking over her: "Can I help? Is there any way I can help?"

How? He was having a hard enough time finding his youngest daughter. Now both his kids were missing and he felt no closer to finding either. All because Johanna had decided to suddenly start being a teenager and doing stupid things like going out with another teen to do-

What, exactly? What had she hoped to accomplish?

John was angry at her. And he was so, so worried; worried that she was gone and their last few days together had been full of miscommunication and anger.

"I want to help," Harrington kept pleading.

The father finally managed to take in a painful breath. His throat hurt, his lungs hurt, his heart ached- urgency was making him panic.

"We have-we've got-to work fast," John choked out but Hop shook her head.

"We can't just rush," she pointed out, "We don't have a starting point."

Then they needed one. They needed one now.

Hop knew it.

"Do we go back to the lab?" the woman laid out their options. "Go after the thing downstairs? Try to confront the monster directly? Go after Ives' kid?"

The lab was so guarded. They didn't know if whatever Hop had found downstairs could even move to chase his kids. He wasn't sure how to attract the monsters attention but he'd done it successfully twice now at the least. They had no idea where Terry Ives's kid could be other than the sighting at Beth's diner.

"We g-gear up," John decided. Hop gave only a short nod. Harrington had the nerve to give a little smirk.

Fine then. They'd all gear up. Then they'd use that gear to rip through anything- the monsters or the lab- that stood between him and his daughters.

* * *

It had been Johanna's idea to talk.

It had also been her idea to hand the gun to him.

Granted, Nat didn't think it would do any damage. But he could understand why she didn't want to hold it anymore. The shorter teen took his branch and he familiarized himself with the handgun.

And as he did that, they talked. Or rather, Johanna did while he listened. She had told him that she had a story to tell him after all, one that explained why she and Steph had even been hunting the monster in the first place.

It was not the most pleasant story to hear.

On anyone's counts, no less. Nat felt unhappy for Steph but still wasn't all too pleased with how she'd dealt with the matter. Johanna wasn't trying to demonize his girlfriend per say, or at least it didn't seem like it, but what he got out of it still seemed a bit too much like bullying for his tastes.

With Carl and Tammy there to rile everyone up, he couldn't even say he was surprised.

And it made him feel rather uneasy to hear about it either. That evening wasn't one he liked to think about. Even as he was living through it, Nat hadn't felt like himself. He had been left looking out the window while someone else was in charge of his body.

Bart was dead just because he'd wanted to do...what? Prove himself? Prove he wasn't a prude to Carl and Tammy? That wasn't the proper motivation. That meant Bart had died just so Nat could prove himself to bullies he didn't even like. It meant he hadn't been doing it for Steph or himself.

And for that moment in time, that horrid awful moment that pestered at his thoughts and guilts, to have been seen by a stranger? To have been captured on film?

Johanna seemed inept at apologies and all too ready to go defensive about it all- But Nat didn't care to see that defense. It made him uneasy that the other teen seemed to expect attack so much that defensive came naturally when the apology was choked out. He wasn't happy about what had happened but that didn't mean he was going to tear her down either.

That wasn't even an option on the table after all this; after living in this hellish world and being chased by Ribsy everywhere. Let alone after what had happened so recently.

The Nat she'd taken the pictures of would have broken what trust they'd built up during one conversation at school. The Nat and Johanna that had been running around in this dark version of Hawkins had a different sort of trust built up with each other.

Didn't mean they weren't unhappy about it all.

They were walking through Hawkins while they talked as quietly as they could together. Nat was in the middle of asking, just out of mere curiosity, what Johanna had meant by thinking she'd 'seen a pretender' and simultaneously calling the claim bullshit when they heard the noises.

Someone humming or moaning. Shuffling. Movement in the city.

"The nest," Nat breathed out, clenching the pistol tighter. Not this time.

They sped down the streets towards the city library.

* * *

The shop owner looked only slightly disgruntled at the group. John looked like a man who'd hunt and so they'd left him to do the actual buying transaction.

It didn't make Hop very happy. The Byers didn't exactly have the money and it wasn't like she was swimming in cash either. But they had to prepare for what they were up against regardless. Plus-

"Let me pay," Harrington had insisted and while John protested, Hop had grabbed the cash and shoved it into his hands.

-Right. So John could stand at the counter to talk with the clerk without looking like he was about to use everything to murder everyone.

The other two went outside the store. Harrington shuffled where she stood. Hop didn't make a move to lessen the awkward atmosphere.

"So," the teen started up. "Do you think we got enough?"

The woman scoffed. Her neck burned in memory at a needle puncturing deep.

_"Against humans?" Hop asked rhetorically, "Yeah. Against whatever creature is out there, who knows. All we've got is that lead doesn't seem to hurt it."_

_"Almost like…"_

_John worried at his lip as he thought out loud. "Almost like it doesn't have the organs, the vitals, a human would. The bullets slip right through it and don't hit anything that would cause death like shooting a human would."_

_They'd grabbed a large serated hunting knife, a beartrap, items meant to puncture and slice._

_"That could work-" John had nodded at them and took a nervous inhale from his cigarette. "It still registered the impact of being shot, even if it didn't seem to cause lasting damage. Maybe a wider spread of impact or cutting could cause more."_

_A canister of lighter fluid, a batch of chains, a pair of flashlights were added to the list._

_"The lights could warn us!" he said and then both adults were forced to explain what he meant to the confused teen that was still following them around. "And fire could hurt it."_

_Two large automatic rifles were added. One for the man who knew how to use them and one for Hop, who was a quick learner._

_"Five shots may not have hurt it," she pressed, "but a couple dozen?"_

_John had grudgingly given her that._

Overall? They had no idea.

_"These could work," she'd said. "We don't know but-"_

_"Worth a shot," John declared._

Of course it was. Anything was. A chance to get your child, in John's case both of his children, back was worth it even without evidence supporting the likelihood of the attempts.

Didn't she know it.

The talking had stopped. Hop shook her head back to the present to see why the teens never ending stream of speaking had drifted off.

Harrington was looking over Hop's shoulder distantly. Something about that made her uneasy. Hop frowned at the expression. She started to turn and suddenly the tall teens hands were pinching her shoulders; Harrington still hadn't looked away from whatever had caught her attention.

"Don't let him out-" the teen commanded just as distantly, "Keep him distracted in there."

Then she was striding away. And Hop, after turning to see what it was that had captivated her so much, walked back towards the store with just as much purpose.

At the least, Harrington was smart enough to know how poorly John would react at the graffiti painting the theater alley.

* * *

"What the hell?"

The three teens sitting up against the brick wall stopped laughing and swung their heads her way.

Tammy caught sight of her expression and then she was breaking out into giggles again. At her side, Carl had an arm around his friend Nicole and was tossing a spray can up and down. Both redheads were chuckling.

None of their expressions were hostile. Carl and Tammy's eyes had lit up when they saw her. They probably thought she was here to join them. They thought she'd have fun with this.

Why did Steph have the feeling she might have if the last few days hadn't happened?

She shook the thoughts away.

"Hey, drama queen-" Carl teased as he pushed from the bricks with a grin. Steph ignored him; her attention was on Tammy. The freckles riddling her face were still visible under today's coat of makeup. Cute freckles. Steph had always tried to tell her that. Tell Tammy that her bitch of a perfect mom was wrong. Steph had been there every day it felt like; every day for years through the good and bad.

Where in there had she started missing what her friends were?

Sure, they teased. Steph had given people grief before. And that incident at school with Byers? She'd been more than ready to break that camera on the ground. If the teen hadn't ran than Steph would have.

But that didn't mean she actually liked it when her friends made their jokes about the Byers situation.

When Nat had gone to talk with Byers that Tuesday, Carl had giggled like an idiot. "How much you want to bet she killed her?" he'd teased and Steph had smacked at him blindly, attention all on her departing boyfriend instead of on the tease.

It hadn't been funny then. It wasn't funny now.

"What're you up to?"

Steph still didn't answer him. A few feet away, Tammy's cheeks, wrinkled with a smile, were starting to slack. She was catching on to the fact that something was off.

To think they'd been hanging out just days before at the Hallet house while Steph felt herself breaking down.

"Tam," Steph started. Carl had shifted his weight onto one hip and was frowning at being ignored. At his side, Nicole popped up like some sort of opportunistic vulture waiting for someone to fall victim in a fight to come. "What's all this about?"

Her friend tapped her can of spray paint onto her chin.

"I dunno," Tammy looked up sarcastically. "Maybe something to do with you running off with the freak yesterday after her own sibling's funeral. Maybe something to do with her being a creeper at your party. You haven't forgotten about that have you? 'Cause I haven't. If you like having a voyeur catching nude shots of you, fine. But Carl and I never asked for that."

"What? No! But that doesn't mean this-" she gestured at the walls. At the Johanna 'the pervert' Byers' coloring the bricks. At the distasteful implications quite literally painted about the Byers family.

The teen may have crossed a line that night but there was no way she had anything to do with Willow Byers disappearance. Not after what they'd both done last night, risking their lives, to find the creature responsible.

"-is ok. It's not."

Carl started giggling again.

"What?" he grinned. "It's funn-"

"No, it's not!" Steph turned from her still lounging friend to face him. "It's-it's-"

This was too unknown a territory for her to think up the right words for it.

While she tried to find her sentence, Nicole whispered something up in Carl's ear and he grimaced.

"Ugh, you're right. Remember that look she had when we caught her at school?" he turned to his girlfriend. Tammy gave out a laugh of her own but their was an edge to her expression. A calculating edge directed straight at Steph.

"I remember," the Hallet girl said, "Do you, Steph? It was right before you'd said, oh what was it? that Byers was a freak pervert that couldn't help it because it was 'hardwired' into her. Right?"

Somehow, the other two teens seemed to miss that edge and kept on chuckling as if Tammy was just joking.

But she wasn't. She was testing.

Steph was no stranger to tests. Her parents made her walk through hoops whenever they were actually home to do so. Tammy had gone through phases that tested her that Steph almost always seemed to pass.

"She probably had that same look whenever she killed her sister, right?" Carl tried. Glacially slow, Steph moved her attention back to the tall teen. Just like he'd missed Tammy's edge, he missed Steph's expression now.

"Oh," he grimaced dramatically, "I just got an image of her making that face while she's looking at her pervy pictures and-"

"Carl, for once in your life shut your damn mouth!" Steph yelled.

The laughter stopped. Tammy set the can aside. The test was over. Steph had failed.

The redhead snapped his gum and did exactly what she'd told him to. Then the shock wore off.

"What?" Carl demanded.

"Hey, what's your problem?" Tammy snapped at her.

"What's my problem?" Steph stepped back and gestured widely with both arms. "You're both assholes, that's my problem."

Behind them, Nicole scoffed at being ignored but the trio had no time to pay her any attention. This was a breaking moment. Everything in Steph told her to stop. To not throw away her best friends.

_But-_

_But-_

She scoffed and stood her ground.

What kind of friends were they anyways?

"Are you serious right now?" Tammy started up and Steph cut her off immediately.

"Yeah, I'm serious. I'm dead serious."

For once in her life, she was serious. No amount of teasing or joking was going to cover this up.

She cast her glance over at the walls and the cans and their mocking faces.

"Really?" Carl stepped closer. "Assholes, huh? We do what you tell us to, Queen Stephanie. You really think this all is, what, 'beneath you' or something?"

"I should shove that can right down your throat," Steph shot back. It ushered a growl of rage from Tammy.

"What the hell, Steph," the girl spat. She couldn't bring herself to look at the Hallet girl. She didn't want to see that rage.

"Just because there's people out there who actually care about others, like Nat cares about me, like Byers cares about her sister, like I actually care for Nat-"

"Oh yeah, they're all just perfect little people!" Carl yelled. "All creeps and nerds and sluts but oh no, we're the shit around here-"

Hadn't she told him to shut up? This was between her and Tammy now. Carl and his bullshit could get lost.

"I told you to watch your mouth!"

Oh, that did it. Carl looked flabbergasted. Tammy was furious. Steph didn't care.

"Don't talk to him that way," the shorter girl growled.

"You're miserable," Steph said unhindered, "Neither of you give a damn and you run your mouths because you like to watch other people hurt. You both are miserable."

And then Carl was up in her face, waving the can.

"Really? You don't think you wouldn't have joined us if you hadn't been prancing around town with Byers? You think this wouldn't have been your idea even?"

It may have been. It wasn't beneath her. Carl was right. It was beneath someone like Nat but not her.

But dating Nat had made Steph realize that. It made Steph know what she was. A brat that didn't mind being cruel.

Well, now she minded. She knew when something crossed the line.

"This isn't tasteful," Steph pointed at the graffiti. "I wouldn't do that."

"Cause you're no asshole, huh?" Carl pushed her shoulder. "If it weren't for Wheeler turning you into a pussy, you'd be laughing at this right alongside the rest of us 'cause it's funny-"

Her hands hand been balled into fists for some time. Now, the tall teen swung one forward and punched Carl in the chest. The redhead took a few steps back and Nicole was immediately on him, checking him over.

Steph had made the mistake of only paying attention to them. Someone else shoved up against her and despite the height difference shoved her against the bricks.

"You don't treat him that way," Tammy growled into her face.

The shorter teens face was contorted in a fury Steph had never seen directed at herself before. It was bitter and protective and betrayed.

All the years she'd spent trying to get Tammy away from her 'perfect' home and happy with herself had built up a friendship. A friendship Steph had tossed away. No doubt Tammy was betrayed right now.

But she didn't want to hear the truth. She never did. Tammy and Carl did what they wanted and anyone who tried to tell them their methods were wrong got trampled.

"I don't know what's gotten into you but you don't get to talk to him like that."

"Get out of my face-" Steph shoved. The shorter girl didn't budge. Tammy pushed her hard against the wall again.

"Or what?" she dared and shook her. "Or what?"

Steph didn't know.

All she knew was that she was done. She was done being miserable.

Tammy let go and Steph pushed her aside to walk down the ally away from the other teens.

"You gonna run?" her ex-best friend yelled after her. Tammy's hate coated voice cracked as she screeched. "That's right! Run away! Run away like you always do!"

Their calls followed her out.

* * *

Hop's truck barely fit two people, let alone three. But they still squeezed in. Under the shell lay the equipment they'd bought.

"What exactly do we do now?" Harrington was asking as they drove down the streets of Hawkins. "Do we go back to the woods and hunt the monster down?" The woman driving rolled her eyes.

"I don't know," John answered after a pause. "At my place, whenever I'd talk to Willow it seemed like that thing was quick to come as well. If I just got a hold of her again, maybe it would show up…"

Hop hated to interrupt the idea but she had to.

"When was the last time you 'heard' from Willow?" the woman asked.

The truck went quiet except for its signature rattle. It was an old rig after all.

"...I didn't have any contact with her last night," John finally said.

"Right. Which may mean your house isn't the best option."

The lab was. Hop _knew_ it and John had to. But the lab wouldn't likely let her break in again. No wonder John was dreaming for a solution that wouldn't require it.

"But it has-, it has the-the lights," he protested, "Those could warn us when it gets close."

Which was not a bad idea, Hop nodded grudgingly. Whatever this thing was, it somehow got to Johanna Byers without Harrington noticing. It could crawl through walls, according to John's story, and that was a huge disadvantage for them. The ability to be warned of its arrival was better than being picked off one by one without forewarning.

"Wait, what?" Harrington shifted in the middle seat and bumped into Hop's elbow. The woman bit back a curse.

"It messes with el-electricity," John tried to explain. Hop thought about her flashlight flickering in the depths of a hidden lab.

"So that's what all the lights were about," the teen said as if suddenly enlightened.

"N-not fully," the man admitted, "Wi-my daughter, she's been...talking through the lights, the phone, the electricity…"

Looking now meant taking her eyes off the road, but Hop would bet that Harrington currently looked lost.

"...what?" the teen eventually proved her right.

Further discussion never happened. On a street headed for the suburban area drove a car Hop recognized. There had been many of those vans at the lab two nights ago.

"John."

The man looked her way in concern. Hop lifted one hand from the wheel and pointed.

"Those vans. They're from the lab."

Which meant the smartest thing to do was drive the opposite direction.

Hop steered the truck towards the vans.

They followed them at a good distance until the destination of the department people became evident. They'd parked around some large rich house on a cul-de-sac. She didn't recognize it. John did.

The father murmured out the household name. Harrington kept shifting around in her cramped seat like she was itching to get out.

That would be a bad move. Hop threw her arm over the teen and ignored the protests.

"We stay down," she hissed, eyes forward on the scene. "They'd recognize me. We can see what they're doing after they leave."

Minutes ticked by. The front door opened and men in suits walked through it to their vans. Some looked like soldiers and others like simple businessmen. Hop didn't trust any of them.

Then, coat jacket flapping behind her as the cold wind blew, out came the director of the department herself. Hop took it a sharp breath and waited as if Brenner would somehow turn and see her in the truck a few blocks away. It didn't happen. The director stepped into one of the vehicles and then the vans peeled from the spot.

With a noise that shook Hop from her reverie, John pushed the passenger side door open.

"Hey!" she hissed after him.

"The lab was here. We should find out why," John said and then shut the door before she could respond. There was a moment silence. Then Harrington had the audacity to poke her shoulder and say, "Can I get out now mom?"

Hop huffed and then opened her own door to slide out; she kept it open long enough that the tall teenager could slip out as well.

They followed John as he moved quietly towards the Wheeler house. The door to it stayed shut while he knocked. All three looked at each other.

Harrington piped up first: "Is that it or should I try-"

The door shot open.

"I swear, if you're here to-" the man who had to be Mr. Wheeler cut off when he saw who they really were. "Oh."

John pulled at his jacket nervously and gave a little wave.

"Kade. Are you alright?"

He certainly didn't look it. The blonde blinked a few times. The blinking eyes were red; the man was upset. But he waved them in suspiciously.

A particularly long glare went to Harrington. The teen tried to smile it off.

They found themselves in a living room with mud tracks all over what had been nice floors. The soldiers, Hop assumed. The DOE didn't bother to wipe their feet.

John and the man, Kade, started up a low conversation. Hop listened to them. That was something she was good at; listening. You sat back to just hear, you ended up finding so much out. Earl, the state troopers, Forest, all of them told Hop what she needed to know without even meaning to.

"We're looking for Nat," Harrington tried to explain when Kade had gotten suspicious of the teen. It didn't seem to earn her any favors.

"And my daughter Johanna," John added. _That_ got a much more sympathetic expression from the other father.

"She's missing too?" Kade breathed out shakily. "God. What is happening to this place?"

Too much that Hop didn't know. And she knew more than this man did, of that she had no doubt.

Speaking of…

"Those guys who were here earlier," Hop butted in. "Who were they?"

Not that they didn't know. But this was a stranger. It was an emotional stranger. Not an ideal situation to say anything treasonous in.

Kade shook his head. His hands were shaking. How very reminiscent of her and John.

That was callous. This man had a child missing too. She needed to remember that.

Maybe she should just step outside. But doing that meant not being around to ask the right questions. Even if the questions hurt.

"Government," came the answer. "They wanted- they were here for-"

John set a comforting hand on the blondes shoulder.

"Deep breathes," Hop could hear him telling the other under his breath. A moment later and Kade continued.

"They said they wanted to help find my son. And they wanted to know where Mikaela was. They thought she's been hiding some boy in our house or something."

Saying it like it was a joke didn't disguise anything; Hop could hear the edge in Kade's voice. Obviously this 'Mikaela' had been doing something.

"What sort of boy?" Hop piped up from where she was standing. It brought everyone's attention over to her.

"I-" Kade looked from her to John to a wall beyond them. "I don't know. Dora thought he was a Russian maybe. They showed a few pictures to us, but I didn't recognize who it was. All I know…"

Good thing John was over there. He was the picture of a good friend, a good listener. It made Kade keep talking. Hop wouldn't have had that sort of gentle touch and would be missing this information if on her own.

"There was a set up downstairs. I think," he looked back at John conspiratally. "I think they were right. Mikaela was hiding someone here. But she's been gone."

"And the kid?" Hop interrupted.

The three others looked her way.

"The kid they were looking for. What'd he look like?"

The answer seemed like proof enough to her.

"Young, I don't know. Bald. I didn't recognize him from around here."

Another piece clicked into place. John looked up at Hop. She looked at him. Harrington looked confused.

"And where," Hop continued, "do you think Mikaela is now?"

Kade shook his head.

"I don't know. If I had one of those girl's little radios, I'd call her and demand some answers but Mikaela took hers with her. I already checked downstairs, when I was taking down that fort."

It wasn't a physical destination. But Kade had still given them the clue they needed.

* * *

They found it walking to its nest.

Johanna had made a choked sound as soon as they did. The monster wasn't crawling about like it usually did. It was up on two legs while its front limbs were busy. Occupied. Holding something.

Holding someone.

It shifted the little body under one arm while it proceeded up the stairs, setting the other front leg down for balance. Both watched transfixed in horror. The monster reached the top of the library stairs. The paw on the ground rose up again to better support the prey it was carrying into the nest.

And then it was up like a human again. Like some sort of bullshit superhero with a child that he'd rescued cradled in his arms. The image clashed so hard with the reality, with gray skin, the claws, the nest it was heading into, that it nearly hurt.

It headed into the library's dark maw of a doorway and its pale form gradually faded from view.

"Th-that was-I think-that was her-"

Nat felt heartless making the shushing motion but he did so anyways. They couldn't get Ribsy's attention right now, while they were out in the open. But they still needed to get its attention fast; before it decided to make that unconscious child its dinner.

Neither of them could cut themselves to attract it. If they did that then it would always be able to find them. They'd need to get it out of there some other way.

He ducked down to the grimy street and patted around. Puffs of fallen spores squished under his palm. Those wouldn't work, he needed-

Ah.

Nat rose up again with the hard lump in his hand. He had no idea what it was, but it would work. It would make noise.

He spared Johanna a glance and gave a little grin.

"Ready to see my famous fastball?" he whispered and then, before his voice could bring Ribsy to them, threw the thing as hard as he could. It went flying in the dead air and crashed behind some stores two rows over.

Perfect.

In the dark opening of the vine covered library, the monster appeared again. It had dropped down to all fours, which felt so much easier to stomach than the sight of it carrying a human (or parts of a human, a different part of his brain worried).

The monster roared out into to still air and then trotted down the steps. The two teens waited frozen in place until it had been out of view for a few moments.

This time, Johanna was the one to grab his hand and tug. She led the way up the stairs and into the nest.

Nat didn't want to be here again. He couldn't. He couldn't do this. He couldn't see this. He couldn't. He-

"There," Johanna pointed. Her whisper was desperate. Nat forced himself to look. His eyes followed her arm, followed her pointed finger, and saw the girl.

The last time he'd seen her was on a _'Have You Seen Me'_ poster. That had been days ago. She still wore the same clothes today. The ambient blue lighting of this world illuminated her just enough. The kid looked pale. Chalky. She was still in that red vest from the poster. There was dirt all over.

None of that stole his attention.

That was being given solely to the black vine attached over Willow Byers mouth.

* * *

The helicopter had left but trouble wasn't over. The kids had started ranting over what was happening and decide what to do about the gate next. Even lay on the ground resting and Mikaela kept glancing his way to make sure he was alright.

The sound of two cars approaching had cut off their makeshift strategy meeting.

"Shit," Dusty said intelligently, "Shit, shit, shit-"

"Shut up!" Lucy hissed from where she'd bunkered down behind a chair. "And get out of sight, idiot!"

It was the only plan they had. So the three girls ducked down and Even pushed up to join them weakly. Lucy dug through her packs frantically. None of the others paid attention. Their gazes were locked on the door of the bus.

Steps padded outside. The door creaked. Everyone held their breath.

It was pushed open. A man, smartly dressed in a blue suit and holding a pistol in front of himself, stepped in. He looked at the empty drivers seat and then started to move his face towards where they were hiding.

A thunk interrupted him. The man spat out a curse and lifted a hand to his face instinctually. Mikaela looked from him to her friends in surprise.

The culprit still had her wrist rocket in front of her and an expression of shocked awe.

It didn't last. The blonde gave one more curse and threw his hand down. The pistol went up.

His head went down. It went down behind his body and the rest of him followed. Then the soldier rolled on the rusty ground and went motionless. Even fought to push himself up.

Mikaela moved to support him. The boy didn't say anything.

"Even?" she muttered. "But I thought the van…"

The noise of the soldier falling had attracted attention. Even pushed to go forward and Mikaela just followed. They left the others protesting inside so that the little psychic could look out.

There were only three others. They were tossed aside like the blonde in the bus had been. Then Even was putting his sleeve up to his nose. There was red trickling from his ears from earlier; Mikaela wiped it away absentmindedly.

The other two girls rushed out of the bus when everything was silent.

Both looked over the junkyard. Two cars, parked and empty. Three out of four soldiers, grounded.

"Are they dead?" Lucy asked frantically. "You didn't kill them did you?"

Mikaela didn't know. She hadn't watched too closely. In a cartoon they wouldn't be. Cartoon people could get knocked on the head all they liked and never got killed. But Even had broke a kids arm earlier today and threw a van. No way were the people in that van okay.

It was still awesome though, she patted his shoulder absentmindedly.

"We need to go," Dusty paced. "We've got to get out of here!"

Agreed on all counts. The girls dragged their bikes out.

They'd been ready to start biking away when someone's voice came from Mikaela's backpack. She had startled like nothing else but then was digging away through it. Had that been…?

It was. Mikaela pulled her radio out and listened through the static.

_"- la Wheeler? Are you there?"_

The others exchanged glances.

"Is that Mr. Byers? That sounds like Mr. Byers. Oh shit, what if this is a trap? What if they have him?"

"Dusty, shut up," Mikaela waved the other girl off and interrupted her rant.

It was hard to think through all that talking.

_" Mikaela Wheeler, please respond. "_

Lucy crouched down next to her and looked at the radio.

"She's right," the girl said, "It could be a trap. We should play it safe."

_" Mikaela, if you are there, this is an emergency. We need to talk with you. Do you copy? "_

At least he used their code right. Mr. Byers must've heard Will talking with them before or something. Mikaela reached for the radio but stalled over it.

_" Mikaela, do you copy? "_

Dusty was shaking her head. Lucy was nodding. Mikaela bit her lip with indecision.

_" Listen, kid ,"_ a new voice cut across. It sounded like a woman. A very cross woman. _" I'm with the police. If you're there, pick up."_

A cop? They could help. Their chief seemed nice enough when he'd questioned them about Will. He didn't seem like the type to work with the lab.

And Mr. Byers didn't seem like the Lando Calrissian type.

_" We know you're in trouble and we know about the boy ."_

"How do they know about him?" one of the girls hissed. The voice didn't offer an answer. It just gave another demand to pick up.

_" We can protect you, we can help you, but you gotta pick up. Are you there? Do you copy? Over ."_

There was another stall. Then Mikaela took the risk.

"Yeah. I copy. This is Mikaela. I'm here."

She looked around at the others. At Dusty's suspicion. At Lucy's hope. At Even's exhaustion.

"We're here."

* * *

They rode down the forest road towards the Byers house. They turned one corner and saw a car straight ahead. It honked. A truck that none of them recognized but that slid to a stop next to them regardless. Mikaela felt Even tense behind her. He was ready to protect them if it was more soldiers.

Both car doors shot open and Mr. Byers was out first. His presence was the only reason they didn't try to bike away as fast as they could- yet, at least.

Some woman none of them recognized came around the front of the car.

"Hey you," she pointed at them and then at the truck. "Get in. All of you."

Dusty bristled up at the suggestion.

"Yeah, right. That's not a trap if I've heard-"

With a volume none of them were used to hearing from the quiet man, Mr. Byers interrupted.

"It's not," he denied. "Now get in."

That shut them up.

They rode in the back of the truck amongst boxes and crates. The adults warned them to keep their heads down out of sight as long as they were on the road.

Her dad never would let her do this. Mikaela couldn't help but be thrilled that she had the chance to sit in the back of a pickup while it was actually moving.

The thrill faded a bit when they saw the bear trap shoved in one crate being jostled around but the big metal thing never came out of the container to slide into one of them.

The party just got weirder when they finally did all unload into the Byers house. Mr. Byers was there. Some lady named Hopper was there (who was not, when pressed by the ever talkative Dusty, actually a cop). Her brother's girlfriend Stephanie was there.

This was a weird day.

The group made their way to the living room coffee table and then awkwardly tried to figure out what was going on.

So the girls started to explain what Mr. Clarke had showed them.

"Okay, so, in this example, we're the acrobat."

Mikaela finished scratching up the drawing her teacher had sketched for them yesterday. She lifted it up for the rest to see.

"Will, Nat, Bart and Johanna, and that monster, they're this flea."

The little crayon 'flea' was poked by her pen for emphasis.

"And this is the Upside Down, where Will is hiding," she explained. "Mr. Clarke said the only way to get there is through a rip of time and space."

"A gate-" Dusty helpfully supplied. Attention shifted briefly from her to the curly haired girl.

"-That we tracked to Hawkins Lab," Lucy finished.

The explanation on the Upside Down was put on pause so that the mechanics of the compass and gate could be explained instead.

Hopper didn't have any time to listen to how compasses worked.

"Is this gate underground?" the woman interrupted.

So quietly it could've been missed, Even whispered "yes."

Wait. How?

"Near a large water tank?" Hopper pressed again.

"Yes."

Both of them talked so quietly. Hopper had a gruff mutter and Even rarely spoke up. But everyone in the room heard it. And she wanted to know how the woman had figured it all out.

"H-how do you know all that?" Dusty stuttered. Seemed Mikaela hadn't been alone in wondering that.

But there was only one way.

"She's seen it."

Hopper didn't deny Mikaela's declaration.

"Is-is there any way you could...that you could reach Willow? Or Johanna?" Mr. Byers sat forward on his knees. "That you could talk to them in this…"

"Upside Down?" Even supplied softly. The man nodded. The psychic did too.

"Yes."

The only teenager of the bunch leaned forward as well. Her brown hair spilled over one shoulder when she did so.

"And my friends? Nat and Barr-um, Bart? Can you find them too?" Stephanie asked.

It made Mikaela all nervous again to be reminded her brother was in danger too.

Even gave a little smile.

* * *

"Will!" Johanna reached for the girl in desperation. Standing back where he was, Nat inspected the child as best as he could when all he could think about was that vine. His skin crawled.

At least there was no blood or injuries on her that he could see.

Johanna grabbed the alien vine and dug her fingernails in. The thing jerked and writhed under her touch. Juding by the determined anger curling Johanna's face up, it wouldn't be given reprieve.

The teen took a deep breath and then tugged.

The vine had sat over Willow's mouth and covered her breathing ability. Its black texture had spread like a flower with its five petals over her young face. Those petals broke free when Johanna pulled.

It didn't flop to the ground. Nat felt his head swim. No, it did not. Nightmares didn't end that easy.

He stumbled over the bones and vines of the nest to Johanna's side and grabbed hold of the thing alongside her. Just like it had for her, the thing under his hands moved. It felt meaty and cold and it pulsed frantically as he squeezed. Who knew if it was just as alive as the monster or just some sort of plant and who cared.

"On three," Nat gritted his teeth. "One. Two. Three-"

They tugged and the dark thing slid another few inches off of Willow's face; or not so much _off_ as _out_.

And another. Any minute and Ribsy would come back for the noise they were making. There was no way this thing could be much longer. Another. And-

Both of them reeled back when it finally came out. Nat tripped back onto one knee and then shot up from the ground as if burned. Johanna had stumbled forward even faster. She pulled her sister from the wall and was holding her desperately.

Neither of them knew how to do medicine of any kind. But neither of them needed to. Willow had only been there for two minutes, tops. They'd gotten her. Nat gave a little sob and grinned over at Johanna.

They'd gotten her.

* * *

The bath.

Even hated the bath.

He hated the black. He hated the feeling. In the black, he could feel an expanse so huge that it pressed down on him. He could feel a million lights spread over distance he shouldn't cross.

But after the... _contact_, mama had called it- Even hated the bath more.

A light had found him. It was scary. It had scared him.

Mama had wanted him to get closer.

And when he did, the fear had grown so much worse.

He'd reached out for it and let one finger touch its slimy back.

It had turned and roared right in his face. So many teeth.

That had scared him. But the black did so much more than show him what people looked like. It showed what they were.

He felt the things mind the second he'd touched its back. And behind that mind, he'd felt the other.

They'd been a cold wake up call.

Ice crawled down his back and he'd ran from it, he'd clutched his head and screamed, his psychical body had pounded at the glass-

It didn't matter. He could still feel them all.

A monster that wanted to devour. Devour, devour, consume. People, places, worlds. He'd given it something new to take. He'd touched it and let it know that he existed. That mama existed.

That the world existed.

It had all been too much terror. Even had shrieked and fought to leave the black and his own mind had spread wildly, joined in with a mind that starved for food, intertwined with a mind that radiated age and power and alien glee-

The three combined had torn the black apart.

And doing so had done more than let him free from the bath.

It had ripped a gate through his world, through the black, straight to that powerful light and it had surged forth with unconstrained greed.

But.

But Miki needed her friend. Her brother.

All these people. Her friends. The strangers. The man with the sad eyes. He was so soft around him. He gave Even food and kept asking if he was alright and it was all so strange.

He was like mama. He was what mama never had been.

The woman with the frown. She wasn't soft. Not with the others. But she looked at him and her eyes changed.

The tall lady. Pretty. Not as pretty as Miki. She would grin and make comments that Even felt sure he didn't understand.

Strangers. Friends.

Even had sacrificed mama and the rest. He'd handed them off to the other things and then ran.

He wasn't going to do it again.

This time, he wouldn't run. He would tell them about the bath. He would enter it without being told to. He would do it even if the others told him not to.

Even wouldn't run. They needed to know that their friends were alive.

But it didn't mean his every step closer to the makeshift bath they made in the large …'gymnasium', Hopper had called it, wasn't full of dread.

Because he really, _truly_, did not want to enter the black and hear its words again.

* * *

"This will keep it dark for you," John handed the goggles over. He'd spent the last ten minutes creating them with a pair of plastic science goggles and duct tape.

The boy took it wordlessly.

"Just like in your bathtub," he continued needlessly.

All of this made him uneasy. Psychics, magic, child experiments. This 'bath' thing. John really didn't like it. But this child had volunteered. He'd suggested it.

Even didn't say anything. John watched the way the boys lower lip trembled.

"You're…" the man started. His own hands were shaking. "You're a v-very brave boy."

That got a reaction. The child looked away.

Perhaps bashfully? Who knew whether growing up in a lab meant that compliments were off limits or not.

The anger swimming underneath the anxious worry grew. John was mad at the department. He was mad at the sick people who'd created this worried child before him.

"You know that, don't you?" he said instead of expressing any of that anger.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Even's head jerked back to face his.

"Ever-rything you're doing for m-my girls...for my f-family…"

John looked down this time. He stared at his own shivering hands. He stared at the boy's limp hold on the goggles.

"Thank you," he sniffed as he looked up again. He had to look up. The boy deserved eye contact. Deserved thanks and praise and honesty.

Deserved a family too.

John's family, his girls, they had been everything for him. They'd lit up his world. The nightmares didn't come when he was busy scaring off his own children's terrors.

He hoped desperately he could find them both alive to make sure they knew that.

"Listen," John started up again. It felt risky but he took Even's hands gently. "I'm going to b-be there w-with you the whole time and if it ever gets too scary, in th-tha-that place, you just let me know."

Even's little eyebrows were furrowed together and his forehead showed that tension. But he wasn't pulling away. Little fingers moved limply over his wrists in a half-hold.

"Okay?" the father asked.

It took a second or two. But Even did speak up.

"Yes."

It was one of the only words he'd heard the child say. John squeezed his hands.

"Ready?"

The idea of sending a child into this sort of danger made him sick. But if it had to be done, he sure as hell wasn't going to press the kid when he wasn't ready.

Even nodded, even if his expression betrayed his own fear.

"Ready."

* * *

They stumbled out of the library and ran down the road in the opposite direction that the monster had gone earlier. With any luck, it wouldn't chase them. It hadn't so far. Johanna could only hope their luck held.

Will was heavy. Nathaniel had a hold of her legs and Johanna held the rest of her sibling to herself as they ran.

The moment she started to stir, it felt like her heart had stopped. All this time. She'd been so so worried- so terrified her sister was gone, gone, dead like the funeral implied-

The body started to kick and move with more life. The sleep, or whatever was wrong with Will when they'd found her, was wearing off.

They ran for the forest. They ran for the house that she and Nathaniel had bunkered up in.

_(as if a house could stop a monster if it wanted to stop playing with them)_

Fear was pounding at her every thought but Johanna was too overwhelmed to note it. Her sister was alive. Willow was alive.

A cough interrupted her thoughts. Will jerked with every motion and Johanna barely kept a hold on her.

"Here-" Nathaniel started towards the deck of house they'd run past. It wasn't the Harrington house but at least it wasn't in the city. It was far enough. "Let's set her down here."

They put Will down gently on the cold ground. Her sister was still coughing and her eyes were only half open.

"Will!" Johanna brushed her hair off the little face. "Will, I'm here. You're n-not alone. I'm here, Will. I'm here for you."

_Please be okay._

Her sister kept jerking. The coughs were wet. Nathaniel was right next to her. It was comforting. And Will was coughing; that meant she was alive.

Johanna would keep her that way. She had to.

"j-Jo?" Willow finally peeled her eyes more open and stared groggily at her.

Her heart may have stopped right then and there.

"Will!" she cried. Her hands were on those little arms as if to prove she was there, she was really there, they were all here- "I'm here!"

"D-d...dad…" the younger girl pushed up even further. She looked sickly.

_(you know you do too)_

_(the air here- it's making you sick. you're hardly awake right now)_

Johanna ignored the worries over her own health. That was inconsequential. It didn't matter if she could barely run. It didn't matter if her head swam and her vision flickered to what had to be confused hallucination. It hadn't mattered enough to tell Nathaniel yet.

That could be dealt with later. They couldn't worry about it so long as all three of them were still in here.

"Dad-" Willow coughed but her voice sounded more alert now. "He's coming for us."

A screech interrupted the quiet. It rose into a whine and fell to a roar.

It was coming for them. The game was over. The monster was done playing.

"Yeah," Nathaniel looked over their shoulder towards the horrid noise. "He's not the only one, kid."

* * *

_AN- One chapter to go. As such, I tried to touch base with everybody here. Episode 7 was the episode in the show where all three groups, the adults, the teens, and the kids, converge. In this au, the only teen not currently trapped in the Upside Down is Steph so that convergence felt somewhat...lacking._  
_Rest assured, everyone (or almost everyone ;)) will be grouping up next chapter._


	8. The Upside Down

"Science is neat. But I'm afraid it's not very forgiving".

_AN- Sickness prevented me from making it before 2020 but even if it's a few days late, this fic has officially come to a close._  
_Summary is from Mr. Clarke in episode 5. I've determined it's pretty much the cause and arc words for why this plot ever kicked off._  
_Which, in turn, has made itself one of the themes of this tale; alongside grief, parents, and more. All of which wrote themselves in and I was just along for the ride._  
_This chapter is huge (the pressure to touch on everyone and include an epilogue got to me XD) and is unbeta'd so I'll give the same grammar/spelling warning as I always do._  
_The dialogue by a certain cameo character here is actually not mine (other than a line or two for better relevancy). They, along with that cameo, come from the Stranger Things Comic. That scene, and another referenced in the hospital near the end, just sold that comic for me (I'm not a huge comic fan and am skeptical of EU material for anything, but as is obvious with this fic I've novelized a lot of it)._  
_Inspiration for this entire fic came from the source material (I had to dissect season 1 to write this and I have a huge appreciation for it now. Along with no desire to rewatch it for a few years), IceCreamRaven's series Difficult Girl(s), and the comic, alongside different common psychological phenomenon related to parents, a bit of research on the real MK Ultra, and so much more._  
_If you've made it this far, have a huge thank you! I hope you enjoy the last installment of this Stranger Things AU_  
_Lyrics at the start of the chapter come from the titular song 'Some Other Time' and do not belong to me. Those rights go to the Alan Parsons Project solely._

* * *

_'Like a mirror held before me_

_Large as the sky is wide_

_And the image is reflected_

_Back to the other side_

_Could it be that somebody else is_

_Looking into my mind_

_Some other place_

_Somewhere_

_Some other time'_

* * *

It hadn't taken them long before they'd started fighting. That was like old times just as much as the smokes and anxieties.

"They're my daughters, Hop!"

The woman ran a hand down her face and it exasperated him.

"My daughters!"

Had she forgotten that somewhere along the way? This wasn't about Sam. It wasn't a chance for Hop to prove herself.

This was about John's children.

"Look, if whoever goes isn't to make it back-"

No. No, he wanted none of that bullshit right now.

"Are you kidding me?" he yelled back.

"They need you to be safe!" Hop snapped back.

That almost stopped him. That raw emotion in her voice.

"They're my children," John repeated, this time far softer. "I'm trained. I fought in Vietnam. I can get you in. But I have to go."

Her mouth was open in a thin line. Anger, desperation, both.

"I have to."

She didn't want to budge. But her immovable wall met with his own immovable force. A stalemate.

They were his kids, not hers. Staying behind was never even an option. If anything, John wanted her to stay back. He wanted her to keep one of the guns and stand guard in front of the kids.

Both should have known that neither would ever consent to staying back.

"I'm going."

John's declaration was it. The end. No more to say.

"Yeah?" Hop's lips pressed together tightly until they were white lines. "Well, I'm going too."

The anger was there a second longer. And then it dissolved into a relief. A relief that they would stay together in this. It had started when they'd broken into the morgue. It fit that they'd end it together too.

Stiff as they were, John led the way to his car where it was parked next to Hop's truck.

All that meant was that the kids were alone.

Well, alone other than Harrington.

* * *

"I know she hides her pudding around here somewhere-"

"Hey, quiet down! Even needs some peace around-"

"What if it comes here? What if they don't make it? What if it-"

Steph rubbed her temples with two fists and groaned.

"No, really. I'm pretty sure there's a stash of the stuff-"

"This is crazy! Guys, this is-"

"Dusty, will you shut up about the food? None of us are hun-"

The one without teeth started protesting that, yes, she very much was.

Alright. That's it.

"Listen up, shitheads," Steph called out over the group. All the midgets promptly went quiet. "Look. We're stuck together here but that doesn't mean we have to drive each other nuts."

That same curly haired kid scoffed.

"Easy for you to say," she rolled her eyes, "You can just drive away in your car parked outside. None of us can. We're sitting bait."

Jeez, the kid really _couldn't_ shut up. It was almost endearing.

"You know who's bait?" the teen shot back. "The two that just left."

That made everyone quiet.

It also meant vocalizing the worry that had been bothering her so much this whole time.

"What- what do you mean?" Nat's little sister spoke up haltingly. The blonde rolled her eyes again.

"It means they're out there looking for the gate with the whole Department of Energy and the demogorgon seeing them as the only threat," Dusty explained before Steph had even opened her mouth.

And since when were they using that DnD name for that thing?

Actually, eh. Steph wasn't gonna fight it.

"What can we do about that?" Lucy leaned forward over her knees seriously. "They told us to stay here."  
"Which we're going to do-" Mikaela glared at them all, "Even needs to recharge."

It sounded like Dusty muttered something about chocolate pudding and recharging batteries under her breath. Lucy smacked her.

The boy just blinked owlishly from where he was laying on the bleachers by Mikaela.

"I'm not suggesting otherwise," Steph spoke up again and drew the kids attention back. "I'm in charge of keeping you shits alive, which means you all-" she pointed "- are going to stay here where it's safe."

There was a collective groan mixed with Mikaela's vindication. Kid was far too protective of her little boyfriend.

"Sit here and worry?" Dusty complained. "You were the one that brought up how they're heading into danger and now you want us to just stew on that helplessly?"

No. She didn't know what she wanted them to do. She didn't know what she wanted to do.

Something rash and crazy and borderline heroic.

Here came that headache again.

"We can't do anything about the lab," Lucy piped up. The way she leaned over her knees, hands on top of the various bags she had packed, made it look like she was preparing to do something. Oh no, that wasn't allowed. Steph could do rash, stupid things. These kids were not allowed to.

"No," the teen answered her absently.

There was a silence. Then Steph broke it with the crazy idea she'd had all night thus far.

"But what about the monster? The demon-domo-whatever you called it."

Dusty said the name under her breath and the teen ignored her to continue.

"I'm willing to bet we could at least distract it. Get its attention away from Hopper and Byers. Hell, maybe even kill it. We bought enough weaponry to bring any animal down."

There. She'd said it. She'd fed the crazy idea. Now there was no way she could leave it alone.

"Not here we can't," Mikaela said sullenly. "Yeah, Even could probably kill it but he's too tired right now. I don't want him using any powers until he's regained his strength. So bringing it here would only put us all in danger."

"I wouldn't want to bring it here anyway!" Steph snapped. "You all are here. That's not safe. Besides," she added as if in afterthought, "I don't even know how to get its attention in the first place."

All three girls looked at each other and scoffed. Even just blinked from the bleacher.

"...blood…" he murmured to her.

Perfect. Thanks kid.

"Yeah," Dusty snorted. "Didn't you hear when we were all having our briefing? And we're pretty sure guns don't affect it. Only brute force or one strong psychic."

"I know that much," Steph shot back. Her attention wasn't really on the kid anymore. It was busy plotting.

There was some raw beef in the freezer at her house. That could do the job. It'd leave the house a mess and her dad and mom would kill her when they got back (again- they'd left early in the morning before she'd headed over to the Byers) but so long as she survived, it would be worth it. It would protect Hopper and Byers. That in turn would protect Nat and the other two.

Already, the interest of the kids had moved to something else. Dusty was standing and the other two were saying something to her.

"I'm just gonna go get some chocolate pudding," the girl shrugged them off, "I'm telling you, Lunch Lady Phyllis hoards that shit."

"Stay in the building," Steph ordered.

The others looked at her incredulously. As if they thought she thought they were idiots.

Well. Weren't they?

"Seriously. Don't any of you dare leave. No matter what happens, you all stay here where it's safe."

They protested that they already planned to do that. Good. That meant Steph could leave without worrying the whole time that the kids would follow her lead.

She had a monster to kill.

* * *

It had been the longest week of Willow's life.

And, without question, the worst as well.

But she hadn't been alone. Her dad was nearby. She could tell. His voice would filter through the air of her house, over the phone, echoing in the air. Willow had stayed near the house and would creep in just to hear his voice. To feel his invisible presence. It always attracted the monster too but not even that could deter her away from her dad.

It wasn't until her sister had been the one to speak with her that Willow left the area. Johanna had told her to leave. To go somewhere safe.

She said that dad was coming.

Willow believed her. She truly did. But she could tell time was running short.

It was the air here. It filled her lungs with ice and her muscles with atrophy. It made her eyes fuzzy and put visions in her mind.

The girl had stumbled to the dark version of Castle Byers and lay down.

She hadn't rose up again.

Not when Chester felt near. Not when a soft voiced stranger had appeared to crouch at his side and tell him "he's coming. Your dad, he's coming for you".

Not even when the monster tore the wall apart.

Long before, Willow had been in the backyard's shed holding a gun in shaking hands. _It_ had stood over her with claws outstretched. A mockery of a human holding out hands for her to take. The light had been overbright. Exposure made it hard to see. But Willow could catch its massive silhouette. The light did nothing to block of the sounds of it chirping far above her. Her stomach roiled in nervous fear.

It was the most terrifying experience of her life.

The girl had fallen onto the ground, gun under her hand as she pushed and shuffled back away from what was undeniably a monster. It wasn't fast enough. As her vision spotted in blinding light, Willow felt freezing hands grab and pull.

Immediately the light had shut off. The claws were still on her. The chirps had lowered into a carnal growl.

Willow had jerked her arms away, grabbed the Remington rifle blindly, and ran. Ran through the darkness until her eyes adjusted.

The rifle made her feel safer. She hadn't learned that it would do nothing against the monster after her. And her house, with her dads invisible presence, made her feel warmer.

That last game kept running through her head like an obsession. In the game, Willow was powerful. She was a magician of a caliber none of her allies neared. With one roll of the dice, Willow the Wise could construct a shield of protection over her party or throw a ball of flaming heat straight into whatever monster dared near them.

The house. Dads voice. Castle Byers. All were protection. When her vision wavered and her brain hallucinated the sights of fantasy games, Willow thought it was so clear that's what her defensive spell would appear as.

The rifle. Running. Tricking it. All were fireballs. With eyes clutched shut, she could see those dice rolling a thirteen and the little metal figurine shattering apart.

It was madness. But she was going mad. She saw things that weren't there. Her imagination became more real than the dark Hawkins seemed.

And just like any dream, nightmares were right behind in the crevices of her mind.

Willow couldn't get away from her obsessive memory of that last DnD game. She couldn't escape from reliving, with far more vivid imaginings than had actually occurred, that moment when the demogorgon appeared and Willow the Wise froze up in indecision.

She'd killed the party. She'd killed herself.

The week crawled by like years. Sometimes she could see what was really around her. Sometimes she saw only dreams.

Castle Byers became a real castle. Willow drifted in and out of reality. She tried to sing, to ground herself, even as her fingers were blue with cold and her breaths rattled.

And when the monster came again, all Willow could think of was the game. The two inch metal demogorgon had stormed into its lair and defeated the party. The tall flesh demogorgon came into her castle just the same. Their figures, real and imaginary, molded together. She had no energy to run or shoot. It cradled her in its arms and Willow could barely register that it was happening.

She was going to die like this. Willow knew what this thing was capable of. It ate people. It would eat her. It would hurt .

And she could still do nothing. Her fingers were too cold to even curl. That child had visited her and told her dad was coming, but he was too late; yet Willow couldn't even regret that fact. Terror couldn't even register.

Her mind was gone. Where she was taken, what happened to her, when it sunk its teeth in, Willow couldn't seem to notice.

The air in here...it was the air in here…

What was?

No. Wait. What was happening?

Willow couldn't tell. She couldn't care. She was gone.

She'd once told Mikaela while they hid in the library from Ms. Marissa to read Stephen King without supervision that she read to get ideas. Those ideas got put into her character. Those ideas kept Willow the Wise alive.

_'I want her to live forever',_ she'd told her friend. Or maybe she hadn't. The memory didn't feel real enough to tell.

These dreams told her it could be true. The witch would live forever and so would she, that part of her- drifting on forever. Dreams made real but somehow so unpleasant; like reality or monsters were both creeping nearer and nearer.

They said aphasia was very, very real. And Willow had realized she _didn't_ want Willow the Wise to live forever. Not if this was the trap she'd be in.

_We heard your song._

She heard it too. Ringing without thought. She shouldn't have stayed. But she had.  
And staying had made her go as well-

Gone, gone, drifting among whatever her head conceived, among dreams that felt uneasy, climbing up up up and scared of what she'd find atop this long black path that spoke to her-

And then it stopped.

Gradually, too slowly, hearing came back. Touch came back. Vision returned.

And for the first time in that long week, excluding the stranger that had came to her, Willow Byers was not alone.

* * *

"Let me out!"  
John pulled at the handcuffs to no avail. They cut into his wrists and the man couldn't even care.

It seemed that the lab hadn't forgotten about the cameras. They'd both been surrounded. When he looked down at Hop, the woman seemed more aggravated than scared. Good for her. He was. There were guns pointing them down. Of course he was worried. Of course he was shaking.

Then they'd been separated. It made him more worried. He'd been taken into a room that made his nerves spike. There was a drain on the floor. The blonde agent outside the door looked at him icily as he was walked in and handcuffed to a metal chair.

And then left there.

Maybe they went to Hop first. Maybe they recognized her from when she'd broken in. Maybe they were keeping her from ever being a problem for them again. John shook the chair more frantically.

"Let me out of here!"

It hadn't taken long to get a response. First came a woman. She had sat in a chair and looked him in the eyes.

Director Brenner.

She'd tried to sound worried. Talked about the six people who'd been taken by the monster that week.

"It will take more daughters," Brenner said, "More sons. How did you make contact with your daughter? How and when?"

There was something unreadable in those steely eyes. But John's own eyes were perfectly readable. Furious.

Brenner tried to change tactics.

"I understand how upsetting this is. I know the pain the pain of losing a child. We want to-"

John remembered Terry Ives. Sitting catonic in a rocking chair. Braindead. Searching, suing, for his son during his last months of sanity. He remembered the house. The room made for a child that never lived there. The chimes gently sounding in the air in a way far more haunting than sweet. It was a house full of innocence. A house meant for a child. But the child it tried to comfort with quilts and chimes was a full grown adult. He remembered Becky Ives. Unkept. Disregarded by her peers for looking after her brother. Mourning while trying so hard not to feel the reasons.

He thought about Eleven. Just a child. A boy who looked near tears as he went towards that 'bathtub'. A place that John could tell he feared but that he had suggested regardless. A brave, brave boy. A boy raised in a prison of a lab that seemed to have made him a mute instead of a lively youngster going to school, making friends, and heading home at the end of the day to a loving father and a love crafted room.

The pain of losing a child? Brenner _caused_ that pain. With Terry Ives. With who knew how many other parents.

With him. With John.

"Stop-" he hissed. He leaned forward as far as his handcuffs would let him and seethed into the face of an uncaring devil. "I know who you are. I know what you've done. You took my girls away from me! You left them in that place to die! You faked Will's death! We-we-"

It was the first time his voice had shook while he talked with the director. But it wasn't shaking with ever present anxiety or frantic panic.

It shook with rage- anger for himself, his daughters, and every other parent and child Brenner had hurt.

"We had a funeral for her," John seethed. He hadn't been there for the funeral but it had happened. It had been hosted by a teen that never deserved to watch her sister die and family fall to pieces, let alone go missing into this...this Upside Down world that the Terry Ives son talked about.

"We buried her-" he spat, "And n-now you're asking for my help?"

The fathers mouth was curled in fury under his beard. He bent his neck forward to get as close to that stony face as possible.

"Go to hell."

* * *

The blonde agent looked ready to kill her.

Hop knew she shouldn't be pressing nearly as much as she was but it wasn't in her nature to stop. Not even when the mask of courtesy dropped.

One of the guards looked unhappy to do it. The agent did not. Hop supposed it was rather ironic; finally, here was someone who didn't see her as a female and treated her 'as such'. No, agent Fraizer did not care one bit whether the person in front of him was a man or woman. He wanted answers regardless.

"What do you know?" one guard asked again. Hop eyed the guns, considered for a moment whether her own impertinence was killing John, and then sneered at him.

"Did I stutter?" she mocked. "I told you. Everything."

They didn't like that answer.

Friazer leaned in.

"Last chance before we stop asking nicely," he threatened. "What do you know?"

"I know you do experiments on kidnapped little kids, whose parents' brains you've turned to mush," Hop panted. It was to her own vindication to watch the agents cheek twitch.

"And I know you went a little too far this time and you messed up in a big way. I mean," she laughed humorlessly, "you really messed up, didn't you? Big time. That's why you're trying to cover your tracks. You killed Beth Hammond, you faked Willow Byers' death. You made it look like those two teens just ran away. See?"

She flashed a big wide taunting smile. The muscles in Fraizer's neck bobbed and his eyes flickered to another agent. He'd cracked. The staring contest went to her.

"I told you. I know everything."

They didn't like that either.

After Hop said she'd given the story over to a friend in the times, which the lab would know was a lie if they just knew she didn't have friends, that nervous energy turned into a different kind of vitriol. The gloves came off. The questions stopped. Now the lab just wanted to make sure this loose end stayed silent.

And Hop couldn't let that happen. She had to live. She had to make sure John found his kids and got home safely.

The box opened and prepped needle came out. Its tip took up her entire vision and focus, it seemed. She had to live, damn it. She had to make sure Dan didn't think she'd just overdosed somewhere.

"You're just a junkie-" the woman with the needle said and got far too much closer for comfort "-A small town wannabe cop who had a really bad week. Took one too many pills this time."

Standing in the same place he'd been all along, Fraizer couldn't resist getting the last word.

"You made a mistake coming back here," he stated and Hop looked up, up, away from that needle that looked like life and death and mistakes and guilt-

And straight into his eyes unflinchingly.

"No, I didn't," she shot right back with confidence unbefitting the current situation.

For Dan and the life she'd thrown aside. For Sam and the joy she'd had with her son. For John Byers and the time he still should have left with his family.

For every date she'd gotten her fix from and left in the dry.

For this shithole of a town with its shitty people.

For Forest and the grief this case had caused him.

Every smoke.

Every pill.

Every look at that Ives kid that she'd told the other children it was her job to keep safe.

It was time to throw it all away and save it all at once.

"Here's what's gonna happen…" Hop started and sold away everything she should have protected to give John a chance to save his family.

* * *

Steph crept towards the exit. It hurt to do this but as much as she felt like she needed to stay and protect the kids, she wanted to protect the two adults. And her boyfriend and his friend she instinctively wanted to pick on (she needed to work on that, Steph cringed). And the girl she still didn't much like along with her little sister, why not?

Just as instinctively as the default to making fun of dorky nerds was the instinct to protect a bunch of strange kids.

Who knew? Maybe it was just some sort of-of- _Freudian_ response to her own parents not giving a damn about their kid.

Enough with that psychobabble. She had a monster to kill.

The death bat Johanna Byers had given her was in her backseat. Hopper's truck was still out front in the mostly empty parking lot. Steph had watched the two adults take the big guns out of the vehicle and loaded them into Mr. Byers, but many of the traps and gear were too heavy for the two to carry downstairs to the _thing_ down there. That meant Steph could try to lug them into her car instead and she could bring them to her empty house.

That was enough of a plan for her. Steph crept along in stealth until she rounded the corner to the front door.

And-

_Busted._

The curly haired one stood in front of the doors with her arms crossed. Between her and Johanna Byers, Steph had to seriously reconsider the level of her ninja skills.

"I knew it!" Dusty swore. "I knew you were sneaking out of here."

It wasn't sneaking! It's not like she was hiding this or anything. All she'd done was tell the others to stay put; she never included herself in that clause.

"I'm just trying to keep the other two safe. And it's hard to do that while also staying here to make sure none of you leave, but it seemed worth the risk," Steph protested.

Dusty just lifted one unimpressed brow.

"What?" the teen tried, "You're smart kids aren't you?"

Buttering up the kid did seem to work. Dusty preened a bit in that prepubescent way middle schoolers would.

"Well, maybe _I_ am," she drawled, "But what about it?"

Say exactly that, that's what. Steph resisted a smirk.

"Is that so? Well, then, I'm leaving you in charge. Your job is to keep the others from running off or getting into danger."

And still it wasn't enough. The kid hadn't moved from the spot.

"Yeah?" Dusty asked. "What's your big plan then, huh? How'ya gonna get the demogorgon's attention, kill it, _and_ get out alive?"

Through a whole lotta luck was the hope. But she couldn't say just that.

"I'll grab the stuff in Hoppers car. Do you want to see it all or something?" Steph crossed her own arms.

To her surprise, Dusty's face melted into a cocky smirk of her own.

"Yeah," she lisped, "And then we'll work that plan of yours out."

* * *

"Wh-what should we do?" Johanna mumbled.

And she could hear it. She could hear it! Willow let herself smile. The muscles in her face protested but she did it anyways.

She could hear her sister and Mikaela's brother. And she could understand them.

They were the first words she'd heard all day that didn't make her shake in fear. These words were full of hunger. They were just normal, average, human words.

Willow didn't plan to take the way humans talked for granted again.

"I don't know," Nathaniel Wheeler shook his head. Willow tried to push up from the ground further and found it too difficult. "We've got Ribsy after us and two weapons that probably won't do us any good."

They needed to run then. Willow tried to say it but it was too hard to speak. Her mouth was full of icy shards.

"I know bu-ut I-"

And her sister's grip on her arms slipped away. Johanna wavered behind her and put a hand to her head with a groan.

Nathaniel was at her side in a second and looked at the other teen with concern.

"Johanna?" he asked softly. "Are you alright?"

No matter what her sister said, Willow knew she wasn't. Neither of them were. The atmosphere in here was poisoning them. It was working faster on them than it was him.

"I'I'I'm-I'm alright," Johanna lied.

Neither of her companions bought it.

Some distance away, the demogorgon roared again. The sound echoed around them. Willow shook herself resolutely. She wasn't going back. It got her once, but it wasn't getting her again.

"We've got to move," Nathaniel said.

How? Willow would try but she and Johanna were going to slow him down.

"Wil-l?" Johanna spoke up and looked straight down into her sister's eyes. "What d-did you mean, dad is-s coming?"

"A boy..." the girl tried. An otherworldly figure. At the time, Willow had known she should've been curious who the figure was. She should've felt more hope at his words. More fear about running out of time. But at that moment she hadn't had it in her to feel much of anything.

"...I heard him. He said...he said dad was coming for me. For us…"

And Willow had told him to hurry. She could only hope her father would.

Despite the visible confusion, neither teen questioned it. Nathaniel licked at cracked lips before he spoke again.

"So how do we meet him? How does he plan to get in here?"

If only she knew the answer. There were so many answers she wished she knew. If only there was a way out. If only there was a way to hurt the demogorgon without rolling a thirteen. Wait, no, that was in the game. Stop drifting. Get a hold of yourself, Willow.

She shook of the hold of sleep. Something in her lungs and stomach burned cold. Dark had a grip on her and whispered sleepy temptations in her mind. The dreaming hallucinatory visions called for her return.

The monster called.

"I'd ju-I'I-d just slow you both do-own-" Johanna mumbled. "The-that thing is near. We'v-e got to get go-going."

"Slow us down?" Nathaniel asked. His voice had lifted.

"You mean...split up?" Willow leaned over to ask her sister. She wanted to sound desperate. It didn't come across. Her face was too cold to summon that sort of energy.

Johanna answered quickly; too quickly. Like she didn't want to let the word sink in. Or maybe so that they'd get moving before the demogorgon arrived. "Y-yes."

"That's too dangerous!" the other teen protested.

"N-not if we d-do it right."

Johanna stumbled up to her feet and pulled a large branch up with her. Where had that come from? It must've been there the whole time. Willow hadn't really seen it. Or where they were. Anything really, other than the two humans.

"Listen-" her sister continued. "We could t-try to split up and keep the mons-ster from getting any of us that way. Whenever i-it gets to-too close to the one group, the other makes a noise or di-istraction. K-keep it bouncing back and fo-ourth between us."

None of them liked the idea. The cringes on each face were evidence of that. And if Johanna was as bad off as she looked, Willow and her would probably be run down fast enough. Unless-

"You take Willow."

-unless she went with Mikaela's brother. But then Johanna still would be run down. Nathaniel knew that well enough. His protests got cut off.

"Nathaniel." Johanna gripped his arm. Willow's eyes landed on that hand and tracked down the dirty arm to see a glint of metal. A gun. She wished she hadn't left the rifle in Castle Byers.

"You can do this. I know y-you can protect her. You can _s_-_save_ my sister."

There was a soft silence.

"Please-" Johanna whispered to him. It made her younger sister feel as if she was eavesdropping. "Get her o-o-out of here."

"But-"

The teen bit his lip.

"But I don't want to leave you here."

The demogorgon had to be near. It always showed up so fast. Or maybe time just passed too fast in Willow's frozen perception.

"I don't want…"

Too close. Too soon. Willow couldn't leave her sister so soon. She couldn't stay here either.

"Dad…" she broke in. "He'll get us. All of us. We just have to keep it from getting us first. Can…"

The rest of her words just felt like too much work to speak.

Above her head, both teens exchanged another conversation with their eyes. Then they both knelt by her. Willow felt two sets of hands pressing against her gently. It was a warmth that didn't exist in this world.

"Be s-safe," Johanna ordered as she buried her head in the gap between neck and shoulder.

"You too, sis," Willow mumbled back wetly. "Thank you for coming for me…'love you."

"I love you-" her sister clutched her tighter. "I love you s-so much."

Nathaniel was helping her to her feet. Willow worried that she wouldn't be able to stay on them. How was she supposed to run when the world spun and swam like this?

His hand lifted up and the gun lay in it in offering for her sister. It wasn't taken.

Johanna stood alone with the branch held tight like a bat. Despite how near the demogorgon no doubt was, they still didn't move immediately.

"T-take care of yourselves." In the eternal twilight, both could still see the smile Johanna offered. They were so common for Willow but so rare in public. So rare with strangers. So rare even with their parents sometimes, ever since the fighting started.

Then she spun and took off running over the messy undergrowth. Nathaniel held one of Willow's arms and offered her a kind smile of his own.

"You ready?" he asked. The gun in his hand and his own size dwarfing her was reassuring.

"...let's go," she answered him in the same almost playfully jovial tone.

And the two of them, Nathaniel supporting her dead weight, ran in the opposite direction; both making as much noise as they moved as they could.

* * *

Things had gotten far less civil after John had cussed the director out. They'd grabbed shock sticks, gotten violent, made him wish he had a weapon of his own even if his opponents were technically other humans like him.

And then it stopped. He'd been picked up and escorted through the facility. John followed the directions in confusion until they reached a hazmat screen. Hop was already standing there.

She was in one of those bulky orange suits and someone had given her back the rifle she'd brought to the lab.

One of the guards readied another one of the suits and another held John's own rifle ready.

That...wasn't right. Why would the lab give them back their weapons?

"Wh-what-"

Hop wouldn't look at him. She stared stonily at the wall beyond them. It made him feel sick with the worry that something had gone very wrong and he didn't know what.

"I don-n't unders-stand-" John started up.

"We came to an agreement." Her response was simple. Wooden.

Worrisome. What exactly did this agreement entail?

The lab people were directing him to step into the baggy legs of the hazmat suit. It zipped up loudly behind him until he was constricted in protective clothing. Someone strapped a thick belt on and shoved the gun back into his hands. Another pushed a helmet over his still confused head.

A few feet away, Hop took her own helmet from a soldiers hands and put it on herself. Then she was pushing through the screen and away from everything.

It took him a few anxious moments to follow.

"An a-agreement? What do-does that mean?" John caught up to her.

"Look," Hop snapped. " Everything that's happened here and everything that's gonna happen? We don't talk about."

John opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off when he hadn't made it past sputtering.

"You want Willow and Johanna back?" she finally turned to face him.

It wasn't the right expression. It wasn't the Hop he had reconnected with this week.

It was the mask of a stranger.

John wondered what she had done. Wondered what she had sold away to get him this chance.

Something horrible, he imagined. It must have been something horrible for her to shut off like this.

But what?

She wouldn't answer if he asked a third time.

"This place had nothing to do with it. That's the deal. You got it?"

He nodded numbly. The woman started off crisply down the corridor once more. They made it to the set of brown doors Hop had described just a day ago. They went through it and made it next to the freight elevator.

And then it opened out into that hall of nightmares Hop's vocal descriptions had hardly done justice to.

* * *

"Hey!"

Nat yelled and swung his arms in a taunt, even if the creature likely couldn't see it. At his side, Willow yelled (breaking into a cough halfway through but it was the attempt that counted) the cleanest insults he'd ever heard in a voice reserved for the filthiest taunts.

Its head peeled open to roar. The sound was pant shittingly terrifying. Neither human stopped.

Maybe it was the fear. Maybe it was the hope that they were protecting their third.

Whatever it was, Willow and Nat had struck up an unlikely alliance over getting Ribsy's attention. Neither had ever interacted before but now they stuck near each other and yelled with as much (granted very little) energy as they had. The more they yelled, the safer Johanna was. It gave them their strength. And besides, Willow was adorable when she tried to be insulting. It made him want to tousle her hair in amusement.

It made him want his own little sister.

He wondered if Mikaela was safe. He certainly hoped she was but he hadn't paid enough attention to her when he was still in the human realm to say for sure.

Regrets were distracting right now. This was danger, not a game that he and Willow were playing for amusement or a time to mourn over missed opportunities.

The monster roared and its hips reared back as if it were about to lunge. Nat ran from Willow's side and yelled as he went. It pointed its body towards him until Willow yelled and threw something at it. Then, that faceless head spun around to her.

This thing outmatched them. That much was impossible to doubt. But so long as it was too confused to go after either, both were safe.

Gray claws scrabbled on the ground as it went first towards the girl and then turned towards him. The sight made him too cocky. Nat got too close as he tried to circle back for Willow.

In one smooth movement, the monster stood up and swung one of those long arms straight out. The human teen slammed into it and tripped back coughing. There was a moment where all he could see through spotty vision was that flower mouth expanding and getting close close too close-

Ribsy stopped short. Its head rose into the air. Muscles all over its too lean body twerked. Those jaws began to close until there was only a small gap where the skin flaps pursued forward. Was it-?

And then it dropped on all fours and lifted its monstrous head to the sky to howl. Nat backpedaled further and clutched his hands to his ears. Feet away, Willow was doing the same.

That would have been the perfect opportunity for Ribsy to fall on either of them. They were disoriented and unfocused. But the monster didn't.

It ran. It ran through the dark trees towards the Harrington manor and the town beyond.

"Did…" Nat made it over to Willow and pulled the girl up to her feet from where she'd crouched at the howling noise. "Did Johanna already signal it? I didn't hear…"

The girl leaned too much on his weight. But she finally seemed to right herself. Her face looked up into his and Nat could see all that stress that shouldn't belong there. Willow shook her head and her eyes were wide in shared confusion.

He gave into his temptation to pat her head and watched as the kid gave a little grin. That was more like it. That was more like the strange affably competitive nature they shared when trying to taunt the monster.

"No," she replied, "No, I don't think so."

"Then what was that?" he looked away from her to the trees.

What could have gotten its attention away from all the noise they were making? From the perfectly acceptable meals they both were? Unless-

Unless there was a better meal.

Nat's grip on Willow's arm tightened and he started to pull her forward.

They were pretty sure that it wasn't as good at hunting by sound as it was by smell. So for it to have left them alone, when eventually blind luck would have let it take them both down, meant that something (or some one ) out here was bleeding.

And that could mean Nat had the chance to prevent another Bart or either hunter from happening again.

And it just might mean their ticket out of here too.

* * *

It reared up in front of them. A pulsing red sore. A bleeding pink pustule. Clumps and webs and tendrils spread out from it as it grew from the wall.

It was an infection. A sickness that was only held off by this world's, their world's, immune system. A lab with psychic children and weapons that flamed.

Such a human based defense could only be temporary.

The two watched it pulse. They listened to it breath with deafening volume.

It stood far over their heads. It had spread over the room.

It made them feel rather puny in comparison.

The guns they carried were just another unprepared human response to what was without a doubt alien in nature.

But even the inhuman breathed. Even the unnatural had a heartbeat.

And today, they were willing to cut that pulse off if it meant getting the missing humans back.

The scientists told them it was not a creature. The breathing thing in front of them was just a doorway. The real life existed beyond it. Prowling, animalistic, dangerous.

The gate felt plenty dangerous on its own.

It took effort to get close to it. It took even more to press a hand to that gel and push. The lights in their helmets were on and ready to illuminate whatever lay beyond this pink wall. All they had to do was-just-

Press-

_Forward_

Even as the stuff engulfed their hands, even as it pressed against their whole bodies as they pushed in, even as they felt it rumble through their very core.

And then the two adults broke past the membrane to the other side beyond. The thing behind them was far more faded. The pulsing beat was far quieter.

It was a world of silence. A world of puffy floating spores and dark oppressive trees. A world with pieces of a hazmat suit like theirs strewn across the ground alongside bone and blood.

An unpleasant omen to be sure. But exactly as welcoming as the gate itself had seemed to tell them this place would be.

The two adults tensed up and then did what they had to break past that pulsing doorway-

They pushed into the gloom resolutely.

* * *

The kids plan wasn't half bad, Steph had to grudgingly admit that much. It was far more thought out than her original 'summon monster, bash it to death, save her man' plan had been. For one, hers hadn't bothered to explain how she was going to get Nat in the first place.

But Dusty had forced her to talk over a new strategy that was at times needlessly complicated- but simplistic enough for Steph to get behind.

First thing she did was get what the adults had left behind out of Hopper's truck. Then Steph drove back to her own house with it all in tow and with Dusty saluting at the school entrance, ready to take on her role of keeping the other little shits out of trouble.

She pulled up to her house and saw that the porchlight was on while the garage was shut and driveway was empty. _Just as she suspected,_ Steph thought with a feeling of relief and disappointment both. They were gone. Off on another business trip or visiting some relative, she hadn't listened too closely that morning when her dad had told her. It didn't really matter. No, Steph shook it off, what mattered was that her house was empty.

The living room was a spacious place. It had a sliding glass door almost big enough to make it look like the whole wall was glass. Outside, the pool lights were on and the light above the door shed the concrete in a warm yellow tone. Good enough for the outdoors, but she and the kid had decided that the more lights, the better. She'd need warning for when the monster came.

_If_ it came.

Steph had to shake that doubt off too. Her parents left her, her boyfriend left her through no fault of his own, her best friends weren't friends anymore.

No way in hell was some man eating alien monster dissing her off too.

The teen dragged in lights from the second living room and kitchen. She plugged in the radio from the kitchen and the one behind the television put them on; loud enough to hear when they'd fizzle out, quiet enough that they would distract her from when it burst in through a wall somewhere.

Then the bear trap was put in the doorway to the kitchen; a decision that she'd never have thought of if not for that little meeting with the kid. The gasoline was poured throughout that hall and a fire extinguisher was put in both rooms just in case. Steph's plan was just to get it in there and then drop the lighter when she saw it was in that doorway. There probably could've been a safer way to use the trap but that was the best she and Dusty, who demanded the layout of the house and then put her head on her first to make 'mhmm, mhmm' noises till Steph couldn't take it any longer, had come up with.

So the lights would warn her. The bat would knock it around. The fire would burn it.

And the monster would be dead. Hopper and Byers would be fine. The people they were going in to save would be fine.

She could do this.

Steph pulled the raw meat from the outside freezer, pounded it to get some of the frozen rictus off, and dumped it on the living room floor. The blood mixed with defrosting water to pool on the carpet. She ignored the stains and watched the lights. The bat twirled in her ready hands. Steph kept hopping on the balls of her feet to pump herself up.

The clocks ticked on. The radios and her own words of encouragement were the only sounds in the abandoned house.

The anticipation was the worst part. It made Steph overthink (or rather, made her stop to think period ) her chances here.

What if it didn't show up?

What if she was far too outmatched and it killed her?

What if-

The light in the pool outdoors flickered off. Steph's breath caught in her throat. Her hands stopped spinning the bat and held it steady in front of her.

Next went the light above the sliding door. Its yellow flickered just as the pools went from being black water to bright once again.

And then the electricity in the living room began a frantic dance.

* * *

The world spun. Johanna realized she was crouched. One hand shot down to balance herself and in doing so broke through strands that clung to her skin.

She had to get up. She _had_ to.

Willow and Nat were depending on her to get the monster away from them. It was her turn. If she didn't- if she- didn't get up, get its attention-

Her head spun again. She wanted to sob.

_( why go?)_

She had to.

_( you know you don't)_

Johanna shook her head and it only made her vision spottier. The branch Nat had given her as a weapon was propped beneath her and used to push up to her feet again.

She couldn't keep thinking like that.

_( she was tired. too tired to play the game anymore)_

_(please mr. arcade man, can I leave now?)_

"C-co-me on-n!" Johanna tried to yell. It barely made a noise. It didn't sound like it made a noise at all.

_( too tired to even scream. Or sing)_

_(not even that song your sister loves-)_

Was her dad coming like Willow had said he was? Johanna didn't doubt he planned to come. But would he succeed in getting in here? Nat and her had been unable to get out for- for- however long it had been. What were the odds her dad would run into a tree like she and he had?

_( low. low and you know it)_

"-h-ey-!"

There had been loud noises for the past...minutes? Minutes. Or seconds. Or was it longer?

_Stop._

Was it because it had gotten the other two? Was it because dad had run into it and hurt it?

There was the overwhelming dread that it was the former.

_( so what will you sing then? Will you stay or go?)_

Inexplicably, the idea of staying was more tempting. It was her exhaustion speaking. It was how heavy every limb was and how her head swam about.

It was how she hadn't-.

She hadn't made any noise. None of the yells had made a sound.

She hadn't moved either. The last movement she remembered was pushing up off the ground, using that stick as leverage, and then-

Then what?

There'd been a few minutes where she'd thought. Just thought and thought; went back and forth mentally. And-

The memory made her twitch forward. It wasn't much movement but it was real movement. Not memories. Not fantasies.

Her frantic movements were hopelessly muted by exhaustion and...something else. Things were on her, wet things, wet-

Claws.

The movements became even more frantic. Her hands tugged as hard as they could on the vines are them. One by one they came free and Johanna pounded helplessly at whatever was near her. A hand found her face and scrabbled about it frantically. She couldn't feel the hand. She couldn't feel the face. Both were numb. Everything was numb.

Something kept pressing her back. Johanna tried to fight it off; the pressure and the numb exhaustion both.

_(why? you're right here)_

_(right where you **belong **)_

The pressure left. Somewhere nearby, her clogged ears heard that terrifying roar. It made her more frantic. Was it next to her? Or was it out hunting again?

She needed vision. That would let her know. All her senses needed to come back. To return from whatever confusion she'd fallen down out in the woods with.

And vision came.

Johanna wished it hadn't.

* * *

The vans tore out of the lab. Brenner sat in the front seat of one with a silent driver. The fence gate pulled open and let the small army through.

The soldiers in the jeeps and vans were armed with some of the best weaponry the US had to offer.

But it was far from the best weapon they had. The best weapon was the psychic who they were driving now to recover.

011 belonged with them. With her.

This rebellion was over. It was perfectly within the realm of human nature to run at the sight of the alien thing under the lab. But now it was time for her possession to come home.

They drove through the dark forests. Over the bland road called Mirkwood. Over the suburban roads of Loch Nora and finally to downtown Hawkins.

All the while, soldiers bumped about in their seats silently. The director watched their surroundings while her mind traveled. And the people of Hawkins lab pulled up to the inconspicuous middle school building.

* * *

Plaster and dust fell. Or rather, exploded outward. Steph was blinking from seeing that alone. The lights she'd pulled into this room blinked too. It made it far too hard to see it.

First went a cone shaped gray thing- a V with a skinny neck attached and soon a body to follow. The mass of bones and skin dropped down to her floor and then that cone shape shot up towards her and split apart. Split like a deranged flower.

No one had told her it could do that. No one had said it had a mouth.

Or was as big as it was.

Or as -

Steph squealed as she spun aside and watched its frame crash into the wall she'd been standing against.

\- fast.

For one panicked moment, she couldn't think to do anything but run. The next and she swung the bat like she was some sort of softball player. Which, of course, she wasn't. Cheerleading for the basketball players was the most she'd done in high school.

Lotta good all those poses did against a real ass monster.

The bat slammed into those spiny shoulders and the shock and pain of impact shot up Steph's wrists. The head roared at her and the flashing lights caught on the droplets of spittle.

She dislodged it, did a little dance backwards to avoid its next swipe, and swung forward again. The nails dug into its thick flesh and pulled back with flaps of skin hanging on them. It didn't seem to phase the thing much.

It bounded forward and she had to pivot away again. And then turned to watch its momentum carry it into the far wall-

Wait, no. _Through_ the wall. Paint and solid wall turned into something soft that melted around its bony form and folded into flatness again.

What in the hell…?

The lights began their dance and shut off once again. A low growl sounded behind her head and Steph felt ice drop down her spine into her gut. The teen ran forward from where she'd stood and turned to watch another wall carve open.

But this time it wasn't the only one to burst through.

They came in a tumble. But those colors, that material, the scared swearing; none of that belonged to the monster. Those were humans.

There was a deep screech from the pile. Something pale red got shoved aside and rolled over the dirty carpet. It was a vest. It was on someone small.

Steph tried to slam her bat down on the bad in the pile and it landed on one of those long hands. The appendage jerked back before she'd even pulled the weapon back up again.

The other batch of colors disentangled from the gray mass and stumbled back against the wall that had, by magic she supposed, already returned to normal. Despite how busy they were, despite the danger of looking away, despite the adrenaline running through her body; Steph looked at who it was. And despite all the grime everywhere on him while his head leaned back and eyes lay shut, she recognized him.

It only made her feel twice as confident- a feeling somehow evident even while her brain screamed in fear.  
"Over there!" Steph yelled and pointed at the doorway. "Get over there!"

Nat's eyes opened and he shoved forward. No questions asked. No words offered.

She watched him in the corner of her vision while he scooped the little form up into his arms and moved over the beartrap. Meanwhile, the monster was prowling closer and growling so deep it rattled her bones. Or maybe her nerves. What was she even thinking?

Hah, well, this wasn't the time for thought anyways. Now was the time for action.

So Steph turned and ran away from it. Bat still in one hand, she leaped ridiculously high over the trap and stumbled on the other side. Then she was backpedaling fast, her one free hand digging into her pocket to grab the lighter.

The monster charged towards them with a warbling screech. Steph had a moment to think that this was it, the end, the fare thee well-

And then it slammed down to the ground as its momentum was stopped by the limb trapped in steel. It was the most glorious sight Steph had ever seen. It was the sight that meant life and made her want to laugh in relief.

One arm was out to keep the others back while she flicked the lid off the lighter. One quick glance down to check if gasoline stained the carpet she or the others stood on was all the time she took. And then Steph tossed the little thing into the air and watched it come down just a foot away from where the creature was currently pulling the trap apart.

The hall lit up. Even from where they stood, the heat rolled towards them. It felt like it was searing half of her face and clothes. Her ears hurt as the thing screamed louder than she ever tried to play music.

"Now! Now, now!" she gestured at the fire extinguisher helplessly. A second later and it was in her hands being pointed at what was just blaring, bright heat.

Well, she could only hope it was dead. Otherwise she was ending the very fire that seemed to actually effect the monster.

There was no corpse when the white powder faded from view. It wasn't alive and ready to jump on them. It wasn't there at all.

Well. Except for the thing still sizzling on the floor. It seemed the monster had given up on tearing the trap apart and had decided to tear its leg off instead.

That sight and the smell? Absolutely disgusting.

Nobody spoke for a minute. Steph hadn't simply because she was still tensed and ready for it to come bursting through a wall or ceiling again. The time ticked by and it never did.

"Stephanie?"

She turned when she heard Nat's voice. He looked so, what was the word, flabbergasted. Also really, really sick. That wasn't good.

"What?" she offered a shrug and reached down to pick up that ridiculous bat again. "Surprised to see me?"

Nat did look surprised. But his mouth was quirking up into an incredulous grin.

"I guess I didn't take you as the type to get so dirty," he shot back. His voice sounded sick too. And like he hadn't drank in days. Steph's heart sank but she tried not to show it.

"'guess you weren't around when I decided to pick up monster bashing and house trashing as a hobby then."

She was so glad to see him. Just having him here, dirty or not, was far more relieving than hearing that bald kid say Nat was alive.

"S...sorry about the house-" a new voice piped up. It occured to Steph that she'd never heard the youngest Byer speak before.

And the house? The house was the least of her worries, let alone Willow Byers's. Sure, her parents would have dual heart attacks at seeing it like this- probably the only thing they could agree on and do in unison, another part of her laughed. But the blood and burnt carpet and monster skin sitting around wasn't really important right now.

These two were. Being alive was. And the other three currently in that (what had the kids called it again?) Upside Down. Speaking of the kids, those little guys were important too.

"No worries," Steph shrugged again and spoke directly to the kid with a softer voice, "Hopper and Mr. Byers will probably help me with this mess-"

"Who?" Willow interrupted with even wider eyes. Steph paused and then leaned over and ruffled her short hair.

"Your dad, kid. He's in there right now kicking monster ass."

That made both Nat and Willow swing their heads around to look at each other. Some silent thought seemed to pass between them and a moment later both whispered it out in unison. "_Johanna_."

* * *

"Are you feeling any better?"  
Mikaela and Even sat on the bleachers alone. The other two had left and while they'd yell back at the gym every few minutes, it was still mainly a private sort of silence that enveloped them. Mikaela was glad for it. It'd been a while since she'd gotten to just talk with Even without the others or the adults that had hijacked the day.

As she was used to, Even didn't offer a very wordy response. The boy sighed, which made her sigh, and then changed the subject by asking what 'putting' was.

Thanks Dusty, Mikaela rolled her eyes internally.

"Pudding, it's…" she tried to wrack her brain for a suitable description. "It's this chocolate goo you eat with a spoon."

Even didn't look all that tempted. She couldn't blame him. At the house, Mikaela had mainly just fed him frozen foods. No doubt he was sick of it.

"Don't worry. When all this is over, you won't have to keep eating junk food and leftovers like a dog anymore."

Who knew if he even knew what a dog was? Well, if he didn't then Miki would just have to change that. She'd always wanted a puppy. Now, she imagined getting one and gifting it to Even; they'd pet its soft fur and he'd probably look so excited to feel something so exotic for him. The daydream left her with a little smile on her face before she shook herself back to the present.

"My mom, she's…" Well, kinda lazy to be honest; most of her meals she made where take outs, canned food, or reheated frozen meals. Mikaela changed tactics. "My dad, he's a pretty awesome cook."

When he did go into the kitchen. It was a well known fact among the Wheeler family that the days Kade went in there to cook where the days where dinner was looked forward to.

"They can make you whatever you like!" she offered with that growing smile. Puppies? Who cared about puppies. Imagine Even at the table gobbling up real food and seeing that happiness on his face at having a home cooked meal his upbringing in a lab never offered.

Even did perk up like she had.

"Eggos?" he asked excitedly.

"Well, yeah, Eggos," Mikaela sighed. This poor guy really needed to try something actually tasty. "-but real food, too."

The gym went quiet when they both did. She fiddled with her hands in her lap. A part of her didn't dare to say what she wanted so badly too.

But if Mikaela had learned anything this week, it was that she really liked this boy. And not just like she liked her friends or Nat and Howard or her parents. She _liked_ liked him. Like...well, Mikaela couldn't really explain it. This was the forte of those annoying giggly girls at school, not hers. Unknown territory. Danger, Will Robinson, and all that.

Mikaela pressed forward anyways.

"See," she started, hands twitching about awkwardly as she looked down at them instead of at him. "I was thinking, once all this is over and Will's back and you're not a secret anymore, my parents can get you an actual bed for the basement. Or you can take my room if you want, since I'm down there all the time anyways. I mean, um-"

It was a good thing the others weren't here or they'd be laughing at her delivery.

Actually, it was just a good thing they weren't here because Mikaela wanted to just be with Even. She wanted to mention this with him. She wanted it to be serious.

Because she was dead serious about this all.

"My point is, they'll take care of you. They'll be like your new parents, and Nat, he'll be like your new brother."

And maybe that would get Nat's attention too. Maybe all Nat had wanted was a little brother instead of a sister. He had stopped hanging out or playing with her and the rest of her friends. Once, he and Bart would run campaigns for the kids and laugh when they'd mess everything up by making stupid gaming decisions. Then Nat had got so caught up with girls and long phone calls and all that lame stuff. It happened gradually, but the brother she had today wouldn't be caught dead playing games with his little sister.

She had never been sure if that was just because he'd aged or because his friends or because she was a girl. It wasn't like Nat had ever told her why.

"Will you be like my sister?" Even leaned in earnestly. Mikaela cringed backward and her face twisted sourly.

"What? No, no-"

"Why. 'No'?" he asked slowly.

Because that'd be gross. Besides, she didn't need another brother. And she had enough friends.

"Because…" she started and then sighed, unable to find the right words. "'cause it's different."  
Even didn't see.

"I mean, I don't know, I guess it's not-" Mikaela conceded and looked away. Her expression twisted further. "It's…"

What? Too risky to say. Not even something she really understood. Just a feeling, really.

"...it's stupid."

But that wasn't an answer he bought.

"Miki."

His word brought her head back up. She was still frowning but hopefully he didn't think it was because of him or anything.

"Friends." He spoke up plainly and slowly and it was so painfully obvious he believed every word. "Don't. Lie."

The gym went quiet for one more minute while Mikaela fidgeted. Then she blurted it all out at once.

"I was, well, I was thinking, I don't know, maybe we can go to the Snow Ball together?"

Which, of course, Even didn't know about.

"'Snow ball'?" he cocked his head to the side.

Of course he wouldn't know. He hadn't even gone to school before. But when this was over? When it was over, he could live at their house and eat real food and get a pet puppy and bike to school with her every day.  
And then in a month when the dance came around, they could be driven over and he'd be stuffed into one of those little suits with a bow tie or something and she'd be prettied up and- well, enough imagining. She had to find out if he'd want to.

"It's this cheesy school dance, where you go in the gym and dance to music and stuff. I've never been, but I know you're not supposed to go with your brother," she wrinkled her face up in distaste.

"No?" he asked in even more confusion.

"Well, I mean...you _can_, but it'd be really weird," Mikaela scrunched her face up again. "You go to school dances with someone that, you know…" The girl looked into his expression to search for familiarity as she confessed it. "...someone that you like."

Lucy would never let her live this down. Actually, Dusty may not be all that understanding either. And Willow...well, Mikaela had never known her to be interested in any of that soppy love stuff. None of them had been.

This was her first time. But the warm feelings she got when she caught his soft eyes or made him smile? Those were new feelings but they were far from bad feelings.

"A friend?" Even brightened up. He seemed to recoil in shock a bit when Mikaela got that disgusted expression again.

"No, not a friend," she tried, "A...uh. A."

Her cheeks puffed out as she gave into the aggravation of not having the right words. The skin under Even's left eye twitched as he tried so hard to listen to the nonsense she was babbling.

"Uh…Someone like a..."

Words just weren't going to explain it. But Even had never been a vocal person anyways, had he?

Mikaela leaned in all the way to do what she'd seen her parents and the people on TV do to the unmoving (frankly confused) boy. Their lips tapped each other and then both kids jerked back. Even's shoulders rose up and up under Nat's old jacket. His eyes were big and flickered up and down before meeting hers happily. Those big uneven teeth started to show as the boy grinned. Mikaela let her own frown turn into a light smile as she looked down bashfully.

It was the perfect moment. And only something important could have torn them away from it all.

* * *

The name made sense now.

This place, this netherworld, it _was_ Hawkins. Whether it had always been or just wore that skin after the psychic had torn the door open, Hop didn't know. There was no way to know.

And quite frankly? It far from mattered to her.

What mattered was staying safe. Finding the Byers children.

It didn't matter if they walked among the dark shadow of Hawkins; a familiar placed upended till it stretched out below the tightrope in the kids analogy- the upside down world below their own.

They hadn't even made it far past the quiet version of the lab before she'd noticed John's breathing. The blue window of his helmet was fogged. One gloved hand was on the bulky hood of the suit near where his chest would be underneath.

"Hey-" Hop grabbed his shoulder. "Hey, are you alright?"

John wasn't. Neither of them were. But she just needed to keep him from panicking. Panicking was dangerous and frantic and pointless; she knew it well enough.

"I need you to relax, okay?" she gripped his shoulder tighter.

_"I need you to relax, miss"_, they'd told her. And Hop had just laughed frantically in their faces, ignored how Dan looked heartbroken and worried while she raged, ignored it despite the hurt, despite the hurt she was causing him-

In the end, she'd listened to the nurses. They'd failed to save her son but she'd still remembered what they'd told her.

Maybe she could share it with someone who was willing to listen.

"I want you to slow down your breathing, take deep breaths."

The rattle of his breathing echoed in the silence. But it had gotten longer. He was trying.

If she had only tried, who knew where she'd be now? If she'd tried when Dan begged her to put the cigarettes away or when she knew Sam wanted her to stay in the room a little longer but she left to collapse in the stairwell because she just- _couldn't_. She couldn't handle any of it.

"In and out, John. Deep breath in...and out."

Telling Sam to breath hadn't given him the air he'd needed to live.

No amount of deep inhales could have. And hadn't she known it? Even when she and Dan paid every dollar they could to keep the light in their life with them.

Hop missed living for someone else. But as a parent, she had. Wasn't that what parents did? Go the extra mile for their child?

Wasn't that what John Byers was doing now and what Terry Ives had done until his mind paid the price? But Hop didn't get that chance anymore. Her child had died because of smoke. It never should have been him. He hadn't ever gotten old enough to even touch a cigarette, damn it all. It should have been her. She was the one who grabbed a joint and breathed nicotine in as if killing herself the way Sam had died would make up for everything the last decade had tossed her way.

"You okay?" she looked over at her companion. The man gave another shaky breath and nodded.

"Y-yeah," John answered and Hop let her thumbs up gesture flop down to her leg again.

The flashlights on their weapons shone through the misty, or mist-like in any case, air. It was thick with particles and spores. The trees around them looked like they had mold growths. Their thin trunks were visible under clumps of stuff she didn't recognize. The dead air echoed with noises that seemed almost recognizable yet too distorted to tell. Perhaps a yell, perhaps a screech, perhaps nothing at all; it was impossible to tell.

The first color in this gray world they found was yellow. It came from an orb that went up past their knees. Or less of an orb, Hop realized as she crept closer, and more of an…

Egg? Whatever it was, it was collapsed and hollow. Chunks of it were torn away and that let her peak the gun, with its light, over its top to look straight in. Ahead of her, John had already walked on. She had to catch up soon but-

The same sick curiosity from when she'd first discovered that monstrous 'gate' made her reach down and grip the side of the egg. Pulling slightly, the holes opened wider. There was nothing inside it to reveal what sort of creature may have been born in there. Or, if it hadn't just been part of the natural hatching process, what had ripped it apart.

Neither spoke until they found a pile of debris that set John off into yelling for his daughter. Hop jogged over the unstable ground to catch up. Her boot landed on a piece of wood that held the words Castle Byers . Over the air came those ghost sounds again. While John let his own cries ring, Hop knelt down over the wreck of what had been a child's fort. The fort the child, Eleven, had told them to find Willow at.

She'd left that child to the monster who'd made him. Hop brushed over a stuffed animal so like the one that had been in the prison room in the lab. So like the tiger she'd brought over to Sam in the hospital. Those little hands would stroke its fake fur while she read _Anne of Green Gables_ in as strong a voice as she could muster up.

_"I asked Mrs. Spencer what made them red and she said she didn't know and for pity's sake not to ask her any more questions. She said I must have asked her a thousand already. I suppose I had, too,"_

For some reason, Sam liked the book. Maybe it was just because it was something they could do together. A chance to hear her voice; a chance for her to read to him. Another moment where he could sit under the crook of her arm and pet his lifeless tiger and she could feel his warmth.

_"But how are you gonna find things out if you don't ask questions? And what does make roads red? 'Well, I don't know,' said Matthew. It just makes me feel glad to be alive. It's such an interesting world."_

Sam may have liked it, but Hop hated it. She hated its truth. She hated its innocence and flat optimism.

She hated hearing the reminder that life, even a hard one, was something to be glad of. A day in an interesting world was everything that nothingness could never offer.

And she'd read that reminder to the child that deserved, deserved so badly, to keep living in this world.

Not someone who should never get that chance to be glad any one of those days he lay in the hospital.

Hop made herself move again. When she no longer heard the sounds of the heart monitor but the real noises of the present, the woman managed to get up.

Faint screeches carried across the air. John was staring forward through the trees.

"Should we go?" she approached him.

He looked her way. Neither of their expressions were very visible through their fogged up helmets. "Tho-ose sounds-s are n-near."

So they went. Creeping along through air neither could really see through. Their flashlights lit up the fog. The misshapen trees, some skinny except in the parts with those bulking growths, were just barely visible shadows in the thick air.

They reached the road Hop had been on at the start of the week when she found Willow's bike. Here, the particles in the air cleared slightly. Those puffy spores still floated everywhere like demented snowflakes. The road took them through the forest towards where their Hawkins should have been. The closer they got to the noises, the more agitated both got. John had his gun up in front of him but it kept drifting down like he was too distracted to focus on carrying it. Hop's own pointed in front of her despite how it had already started making her arms burn to lift the thing.

The sounds were _voices_. Or they seemed like them. Unrecognizable voices at first but still seemingly human. In desperation to find the missing humans, both tracked towards the sounds quicker.

It led them to a house. Huge, compared to her mobile home or John's place or even that cabin she technically owned deeper in the woods than her regular place.

"I-i-is that…"

Some sort of laughter trickled by them. It was like a bad phone connection or listening to someone when your own ears were clogged.

And despite how far the voices sounded by volume, both could tell they were near. In fact, they were _here_.

Right where she and Jon stood.  
"That almost sounds like Harrington," Hop pointed, although no one stood in front of them. The laughter rippled through the air muted again. Even through the suit, John could be seen shaking.

And Hop felt her own breath catch at the other two voices ringing invisibly.

"Th-tha-at's h-h-e-r-" the father breathed out.

He turned to her with frantic speed.

"That's h-her! It's Willow!"

And she could bet that third voice, with its deeper and decidedly male tenor, was one of the two missing boys.

The Wheeler, then. The psychic child had already confirmed in the bathtub that Holland was dead.

Hop told him her thoughts, though John didn't seem to be paying attention. He was straining to hear the ghostly voices. So she quieted and joined him.

A slam carried in the same muted way. The noises left the area. Maybe a car? Then the three had left. And-

"-I did-dn't hear Johan-na," John confirmed in a strained voice.

The grip on her gun tightened. They'd come in here to get all three kids. Well, that's what they'd do then.

* * *

( **_Darling_… **)

Johanna hadn't blinked away from the sight. Every part of her wanted to but shock and horror had rooted her eyes to the spot.

The bloated face nearby was recognizable. It was someone Nat had described to her. But even if he hadn't, Johanna would _know_. She recognized all of them in here. All shared the same stare and voice, even as some had no eyes and all voices seemed to ring unique. Green eyes were glassy but they still seemed to look at her. As if the face was alive and speaking. But it was dead, rictus set in and making it immobile even as something dark and spotted crawled from blue lips, and the mouth was incapable of speaking.

Then why had she heard him?

Another corpse drew her focus away. A faded red baseball cap lay atop a rotting face trapped beneath the nests vines.

( _**SUCH COLD EYES**_) it mused aloud to the rest of them. Even as it had no such thing to see her own frantic stare.

( _**we heard your songs **_)

The hunter from the woods didn't stutter anymore. His torso was buried near the one that must have been Dale. Half a face missing and no jaw at all there to have spoken with.

( **_sIsTeR sHaReD sO mUcH!_**) came from under the shattered and bloody helmet of a hazmat suit.

The voices tittered. Beneath their multitude was a timbre; a sound Johanna couldn't quite hear.

She didn't want to hear it. She wanted to escape.

With a cry, Johanna pushed herself away from the dead. Her hands scrabbled over the wet growths until they found the even colder stone of the floor. The floor outside-the library floor! She was out! That horrid nest with all its ghosts were trapped in there but she was out out out-

The teen fell down the stairs and lifted up onto her hands and knees at the bottom. Her lungs burned. Her head ached. Still, Johanna pressed forward in a weak crawl. The overbearing black that was the library doorway was left behind.

Every lift of an arm was agony. Every inch forward was eternity.

She had to escape the black. She had to. She had to tell her dad he wasn't crazy and she hadn't meant to hurt him, hadn't meant to doubt him, hadn't ever hated him ever if she seethed underneath at times…

There wasn't enough consciousness left in her to let Johanna realize that her collapse was only twenty feet from the stairs to the nest.

She hadn't made it.

( _it wasn't like she always could have **GONE **_)

That cursed song from the Clash was being sung by Willow; while the girl's voice was weak and sick and she hid from the things of this place that planned the worst.

The teen curled up on herself. Her throat wouldn't intake more of the poisonous air. But Johanna didn't notice. She couldn't see the street. She couldn't even see the ever present blue twilight.

There was a skull buried in the growths of this world. It could have been any one of them. A kid, a teen, a hunter at night.

It wasn't much partial that way.

( **YOU **_**STAYED**_**.** )

Johanna shook. She hadn't wanted to. It was her every intention to run. Run from the monster, run from the poison in the air, run from this world-

But the monster had caught up with her. The poison had kept her body from moving to flee. The world wanted her and Willow and everyone who it devoured.

And it didn't plan to let her crawl away from all that.

( _**we heard you **_) they spoke.

( **and now? now you're **_**right **_**where you belong** )

She rattled on the ground. Seized and shook and sobbed and barely could take not that her body was doing any of it.

And the skull wasn't alone. There were the dead in the nest. There were bones too twisted to be theirs. There were skulls with heads too long and flat to be human, though their jaws pried open in agony looked similar enough to those of the dead of her species.

There were ribs and ribcages of escalating shapes and sizes. The bones and rot piled together in mounds and long, long limbs. Gone was the blue of twilight. The piles were the color of gray and flesh. They reflected the light of the sky: the orange, firey, stormy sky. The closer to the top the bones rose, the more red they seemed. One long jawbone the size of her house was lit the most where it sat atop the nearby mounds like a toothy shipwreck.

( **you WILL stay** ) the nearest told her.

( _**we're always here **_) went one distinct voice mashed together with the multitude. That deep timber rumbled ever more audibly.

( **WE'RE HERE** )

( **'til the end of time** ) one elongated skull told her and the words made her want to flinch away. Her body refused to react. So she was forced to hear it, with its tone somehow almost comforting while being maliciously delighted promising her an eternity among the dead.

But they didn't seem dead as their voices rose.

Johanna always had hated voices. People talked on and on and it hurt. It made her thoughts slow and her focus ruined. Even listening to one singular person was hard. Crowds were a nightmare though; a cacophony of sounds and people. People she couldn't read. Words she couldn't distinguish. She could hear but could never seem to listen.

She'd always wished she could distinguish. It would make the noises of crowds a bit more bearable than just the unreadable gibberish. But to listen forever to these sounds-

It was enough to make her scream, if she were just physically able.

( **iN tHe BlAcK** )

But she'd run from the black. She'd ran and crawled and-

And still failed. Still **stayed**

( **here with us** ) one started up. A different voice finished. ( **_as who you're supposed to be_ **)

Not what Lonni had told her to be. Not what the high school cliches did.

But uncovering everything about herself she'd tried so long to hide was far from tempting.

( _**you'll listen to us **_) the sounds and dark timbre soothed in either comfort or taunt.

They'd risen above to the top of the nearest mound. Individual voices had morphed; joined together, melded as one, fell to join that deep, inhuman rumble.

And Johanna could see what it belong too. Far above its mounds of conquered dead hovered something a part of her, one that had never been there before she'd blacked out in the woods and woken in the nest, recognized.

( **the clothes fit now** )

( **_You_. **)

( **_YOU_ FIT NOW** )

There was never a possibility someone as weird as her would ever fit at the high school. She didn't belong with people excluding her family and a select few. For so many years now, Johanna had suspected that even if she changed her clothes and gave the vocal inflections the others did and talked like those other teens would- she still wouldn't fit.

But that wasn't something that bothered her anymore. Normal was something she fought to comprehend.

And it wasn't something she fought to try, however pointlessly, to be anymore. She was a freak. But it was freaks, abnormal in different ways than her own social ineptitude, that accomplished the meaningful in this world.

Johanna was done trying to 'fit' in the world because that hopeless part of her had always known- since preschool when she would see all the other kids with the exact same meaningless expression only to be told they were all expressing different emotions she'd somehow not seen, since other kids wanted her to go to town or play loud games and it made her bury herself in her arms to cut the sounds off, since her mom told her she had to shape up and fix her act or she'd be labelled as a fag or something that Lonni refused to associate with- it was impossible for her. The camera let her bridge but it could never replace the innate she'd been missing.

Somehow being told that all of that-

_the frustrated confusion on the playground_

_the laughter of the others when she'd plug her ears frantically to try to retain some sense of functioning_

_the disgusted disapproval of her own mother_

\- was gone didn't feel nearly reassuring. Everything being swept away under the rug as her own mind seemed to fizzle away was far from it. Panic built and was forcibly locked down as everything continued to fade to the black, the unliving, unthinking, black-

It reared so far overhead. A featureless head and five long branching limbs among the chaotic lightning. A possessive rumble, a timbre as dark as its massive body.

Despite how she wanted to panic and fight and run from all its words, Johanna stopped remembering.

Stopped thinking.

Submerged among the mounds.

Regardless of her own spirit or will to fight, she stayed.

* * *

They were still sitting knee to knee and looking around bashfully when the car came. Mikaela had risen, thinking it was one of the three who had driven away.

Without her knowledge, the back doors of the school were pried open. Boots clipped down dark halls in the direction of the lit up gymnasium.

It wasn't them that she saw. It was the people pouring out of vehicles towards the main entrance of the middle school building.

Bad men. Somehow, they'd been found.

The girl tore back into the gym.

* * *

They found the portable pool sitting on the floor. The hoses were still laying in it and the bags for sodium were on the ground nearby. No matter what the agents claimed, and there was one now saying they'd searched everywhere and brought up naught a sign of them, Brenner knew they were here. The makeshift bath was all the evidence she needed.

The halls were covered. Gradually, the agents closed off all exits; and closed in as well.

By the time she rushed around the corner, there were already casualties. The blonde hair of Fraizer lay bloodied on the tiles. He'd been a good agent. The director loathed to replace him already.

But a soldier had nothing on the strongest human ever to have existed. A human now laying on the floor surrounded by children.

She'd _made_ this boy. She'd influenced Ives, worked the process, and looked now at the carnage he'd wrought here in this hall.

_Beautiful._

The experiment was so very powerful, but so very weak. She would help him with that.

"Step away from the child-" Brenner strode closer. It occurred to her that she'd called him a _child_. How very different from what she'd have normally said.

Fraizer was an example of what building an adult could yield. But 011 was so, so much more glorious and she'd played such an intimate role in making that. Him.

"No!" The brunette child bristled up and snapped at her. "You want him? You have to kill us first."

"That's right!"

"Eat shit!"

Such pointless bravado. Brenner didn't pay them any attention. She'd promised the woman they caught at the lab that she wouldn't touch anyone other than what belonged to her. And so long as it benefited her, Brenner was a woman of her word.

The other agents grabbed those children interfering and gave her the room to sweep in. They kept yelling but she'd already zoned them out.

"Eleven?"

The director swept the limp child up against her. She looked with urgency at the experiment for any sign of life or injury.

"Eleven, can you hear me?" Brenner gripped his head on both sides and gently shook him. There were no plans to hurt him. No, not after everything he'd shown he was capable of. Not when he was her bridge to everything that before humans thought unreachable.

"Eleven?"

There was blood trickling from his nose. Eyelids fluttered weakly.

"...mama?"

And the smile Brenner gave him for answering was dazzling.

"Yes, yes, it's your mama-" she said back and ignored the continued noises the strange children were making. But 011 didn't. He turned from her, _from her,_ to look down the hall.

So Brenner let herself listen to what her child found so interesting.

"Get off of me-" one was biting at her impassive guard.

"Let 'im go! Let 'im go, you bitch!" came one of the others screams.

011 looked away from them with a whimper. He tried to look all the way down the hall but his face ran into Brenner's hand.

"Shh," she told him as he continued whimpering. The child's head went limp on his neck and lolled wherever he directed it to with possessive hands.

"Shh, you're sick-"

And wasn't he? He'd gotten all connected with the useless frivolities of humanity. At the lab, they didn't waste time with that and he'd never shown a desire to change that. This newfound desire of his _was_ an illness. A virus that quarantine and familiarity would erase.

"You're sick, but I'm going to make you better. I'm going to take you back home, where I can make you well again. Where we can make all of this better-"

Because the director knew full well that 011 did not like what he had at the lab. He didn't want to kill an animal, unless it wore a human's face it seemed. He did not like the bath.

She couldn't stop using his power. No, never. But if he wanted more-

More, whatever it was children desired, toys or smiles or facsimiles of family

\- He'd proved himself this week. He'd earned all of those things he could want within the confines of the program. Brenner _would_ make everything better.

"-so that no one else has to get hurt."

Wasn't that what he wanted? Wasn't that generous enough?

011 moaned and his head stopped rolling so that he could look straight at her.

But it wasn't the face he should have had. It wasn't pliable. It wasn't caving.

"Bad," the boy said and then repeated it louder. "Bad."

He twisted to look down the hall towards the other children. He turned _away_ from her.

"Miki. Miki-"

Anything further he was planning to rebelliously say was cut off by the lights overhead. They were already dim. But now their dimness flickered off and on again in rapid succession.

The child in the striped tee shirt looked up at them with an unattractive gaping mouth.

"Blood," she said, and Brenner had one moment to wonder why that was important.

Then the plaster wall with its mascot symbol painted on pounded forward. Cracks split over it and dust shot forward. For a split second, the dull plaster mixed with an illusionary pink, and then-

The wall rolled up and the top fold was carved away. The head of the thing she'd only seen on the security tapes of the lower lab levels shot through. Its mouth expanded to growl almost triumphantly before it had even pushed out further.

And then a human shaped body shoved through the wall. Its skin was reddened and blistered. Slime from the gateway clung to the back of it. Its head split open to make a high roar.

So unlike the call she'd heard from it through the transmission on the day of first contact.

Or...or perhaps it was the very same.

The lights had stopped their flashing. But the hall still flickered with every shot from the agents between her and the creature. The bullets knocked it back to slam against the open wall it had come from. The screech never stopped until it jumped forward from the spot.

A faux state policeman was leapt open first. Then the one next to him. Burnt skin coated with very human blood.

Brenner had stood but hadn't ran. Not when it had first burst through. Not when the bullets of her agents did nothing.

She back tracked a few steps but her attention had never left the creature in front of her even as it ran out of targets to maul.

The flaps of skin turned towards her; nothing but red and dozens of serrated teeth looked back from the head. Its large body crouched down on the ground, legs pressing back- and then they sprung.

Brenner had reached for it out of insatiable scientific curiosity.

Now, gray claws outstretched and maw impossibly open, it reached back for her.

* * *

"Go, go, go, go, go!"

Dusty was carrying him. His friend jostled him but Even was still thankful. It would be hard to run like Miki was telling them all too.

He just wished he had more strength. He needed the energy to sit up and tell them the truth.

That this thing couldn't be stopped by running.

It would follow them no matter where they hid.

Hadn't it found him despite not wanting to be found?

"Come on, come on!" Miki ran past one of mama's men, shooting down a seperate hall than they were in, and the rest followed. The hallway stopped in a dead end.

Even watched it spin around him when Dusty turned to follow Miki. She had backtracked and was pushing open the nearest door.

"Sorry," the girl carrying him said down to Even, "Hold on. We're almost there. We're almost there."

Almost where?

Where was safe?

Lucy slammed the door shut behind them. Dusty kept up her stream of "come on"s, although with how he kept dipping towards the floor it could very well have been directed at herself.

The lights flashing dangerously overhead, Even felt multiple hands under him push him onto something flat. Table. Miki was right overhead while he tried to catch his breath.

As he turned to his side, the girl had reached for his hands and clutched them both together with her own.  
"Just-Just hold on a little longer," she raced through the words. "Okay?"

Even tried to answer. But only a breathy sigh came. His little body wracked with a sniffle.

"Hey-" Miki tried even more desperately. "She's gone. The bad men are gone. We're…"

The words drifted over him but Even clutched them all frantically. Miki's words were good. Nice.

And he knew what was going to happen. What would have to happen.

In truth, he'd known from the moment he reached out and made first contact.

"We'll be home soon and my dad...he'll get you your own bed and- and you can eat as many Eggos as you want-"

There was wet beneath his eyes. And Miki had told him earlier he wouldn't be eating Eggos every day.

They both knew.

This was a fantasy they were crafting.

But it couldn't happen. Not while the monster lived.

And Even still was not convinced he wasn't that monster.

His mouth still widened to a smile. A sad smile. The most he could offer her in way of reassurance.

"And-and we can go to the Snow Ball," Miki went on. Even smiled again at that.

"Promise?" he asked softly. Their hands were squeezing and releasing with the same frantic energy as their words.

She sniffed back a tear.

"Promise."

They tore apart when the screech came near. The guns fired in the hall and then stopped. Dusty asked with unbelieving hopefulness if it was dead or not.

Even knew the answer even before the door crashed apart and it dropped in. The girls panicked over Lucy's bags, yelling at her, yelling at each other, and all the way the monster had risen on two spindly legs and stalked forward towards them. Its mouth was open to screech at them. One stone, two stones, the insufficient weaponry hit it to no effect. The thing growled lowly.

It would get them. They would die.

No.

No more.

It hurt to slide off the table, but Even did it. Everything felt sore. His brain felt sore.

He'd never pushed past this point before. He didn't know if it would kill him to do it.

But he did know not doing it would kill them all.

The monster flew across the room. Its legs dragged and uphended desks and chairs. The green board at the back of the room splintered when it slammed against it.

Even walked forward. Past his friends. Neither ear was clear. His eyes burned from broken blood vessels.

"Eleven, stop!"

Miki's hair shot out as she ran forward. Only inches from him, Even let his hand drop to push her back. He didn't want to hurt her. He didn't want to throw anybody like he'd thrown Lucy before.

But she couldn't stop him.

The thing tried to push off the wall. Its spine cracked when he shoved it back flat against it. Arms and legs were plastered to the board. The head roared and squealed but it couldn't not go forward. He would not let it.

Lights flickered wildly. Some because the monster. Some because of him.

His eyes tracked down its burnt body. There was nothing vital to target there. The skinny chest contained no human heart. The legs had pulled up, knees sticking forward towards him, but he didn't pay them any attention either after discovering there was no fatal weakness there.

The head was a good place to target on a human, but it wasn't enough here.

All of it had to go.

He looked behind his shoulder. Lucy was grimacing. Dusty was gaping.

Miki was against the cabinet he'd slammed her against. Her hands were up but dropped down when she saw his expression.

He wouldn't stop.

Not even when it made her look so devastated, so hurt.

"Goodbye Miki."

It hurt to say. It was almost too much.

Behind his head, the monster trilled and growled. It brought his attention back to it. Back to why he had to make her break her promise. To why he was leaving this warmth and friends and everything he'd found with these people. He turned back to the creature on the wall.

Even had felt this thing. He'd seen it just like it had seen him.

It would always starve. It could eat every one of her friends and mama's men and it would still come for more. The mind in the dark behind the monster's own would always direct it towards more.

"No…"

If the others escaped now, it wouldn't matter. This thing would keep looking forever. And just like Even could find anyone mama told her to, it could too.

It had to be stopped- right here, right now.

No amount of food or soldiers would ever end its killings.

"... _more_. "

The boy screamed as he pushed out, out, out with his mind.

The body with so few weaknesses began to tear apart. He pulled at it while the monster shrieked until it had no functions left to screech with. Its body came apart while he shredded through it until finally there was nothing left in front of him to hunger.

And among the flurry of its floating cells, Even found himself collapsing.

* * *

Their search came to an end.

John felt his heart stab in his chest when they rounded a corner of Hawkins as they followed the blood trail left by the monster.

On this street was a human. A young adult collapsed on the ground.

But all John could see was a child. _His_ child.

He'd ran frantically to Johanna's side and turned her onto her back. The body didn't resist the movement. She wasn't moving. He tore his helmet off and ignored the cold air he inhaled. It didn't matter. Right now, his motionless daughter was everything. He dropped his head to her chest and felt that stabbing panic again.

"She's n-not breathing!" John sobbed. "Hop, sh-he's not breathing!"

The other crouched by his side and pulled her own hood off the suit.

"She-s-she-sh-he-"

"Alright, listen John-" Hop cut him off. He was too busy feeling and shaking and stroking the lifeless shoulders. It took Hop grabbing his shoulder to draw him back.

"John! Listen to me, listen to me, listen to me. I need you to tilt her head back and lift her chin."

The guns were discarded nearby. She'd dropped hers to start pressing rapidly on Johanna's chest.

CPR. John knew this. He knew this all from training, from combat itself, but-

But this was his daughter. It was so, so very different from anything back then. It was so very desperate here.

"Now when I tell you," the woman paused her counting, "you're gonna pinch her nostrils, and breathe into her mouth-"

"Twice…" he recollected that training. She offered only one nod.

"One second-"

"-then pause."

"And one second again."

They restarted the count. Hop snapped out when to go and he followed.

"Come on , kid!" came her voice from above his head. When John came back up for breath, he started to speak. Hopeful, desperate, pleas that spilled out without conscious thought.

"Johanna, listen to me."

_When was the last time they had spoken? Was it really when they'd yelled over Willow's funeral in public?_

"It's me, it's your dad and I love you so much. I love you so, so much."

_Please, please, just let him tell her that. Let her hear it from him._

"C-come back to me. I love you so much. I love you so much ."

And now Willow was alive. She was safe, hopefully. But Johanna had put on a funeral for her. Had done it all without his help and support because he was distracted and angry.

_How long had he been so distracted with her?_

_How much had they missed about each other?_

"Please, please come back to me. Just p-please, pl-please wake u-up."

Too much.

They couldn't miss more. They couldn't miss out on a lifetime more.

"P-p-leas-se, _pl-please._"

Hop slammed an arm down on the chest rather than another compression.

"Come on, kid!" she repeated and slammed again.

"B-breathe," John begged as he cradled her motionless head, "I need you t-to wake up now. Come b-back to me. Please, J-Johanna, _breathe_… "

And his daughter jerked in his arms to do just that.

* * *

The trio huddled on the ground. Johanna hadn't moved from her fathers arms except to cough. John cradled her and sobbed grateful mantras. Above them both, Hop watched; watched as this time unfolded in a way that brought the child and parent together.

And the world around them was silent besides those words John spoke.

* * *

Sirens rang in the schoolyard. Steph had parked nearby and ran out of the car towards the place that the kids were supposed to be safe in. Moving much slower behind her came Nat; and, in his arms, Willow. The girl had passed out on the drive over.

The sirens came from cops. But there were ambulances. Nat picked up speed to get to one and handed Willow off gently to the two paramedics next to it. Then he scanned the scene in confusion. Steph had tried to fill her in but nothing in her story explained why there was all this happening out here and-

The thought cut off the same time he spoke one word into the air.

"Mikaela."

Nat was frozen in place at seeing his sister. It had been- it felt like so long-

She was safe. But she was involved with all this. And she was sitting in the back of an ambulance.

"Oh my God, Miki!"

Regardless of the mess he was or who was around, Nat ran for his sister. She looked up from the paramedic to see him and her tear streaked face lit up.

How long had Nat been alienating himself from his sibling? At least a year. In high school, he'd wanted to be liked. And the popular teens all said their younger siblings were annoying and avoided them. Sure, Mikaela was annoying.

But Nat should never have started avoiding her.

The two Wheeler siblings crashed into each other. Mikaela's legs hung over the edge of the ambulance and waved while they hugged.

Another car drove up and its occupants ran out just as quickly. Kade Wheeler moved through the vehicles and past people until he saw his two children. Behind him, Dora kept close and looked just as worried.

And she talked to the paramedic with the clipboard next to her children even as she looked at the embrace shared by the other three with the wish to reassure them all as much as she could.

The Sinclairs arrived at the same time. They found their daughter where she was being treated and swept her up.

"You're safe-"

Lucy didn't try to push away.

"I told you I would be, dad."

But with Even gone, this felt far from a victory.

The Henderson residence was farther from the school. Dusty sat alone, wrapped in a blanket, while her friends were swept up by their families.

Someone tall and somewhat familiar slumped down next to her.

"I thought you were gonna keep everybody out of trouble here."

The kid snorted.

"Yeah, well, that turned out that was a bad plan, champ," she shot right back.

Stephanie Harrington looked over the chaos of the parking lot and conceded the point.

And underneath a lab that had lost its managers, John Byers and Jane Hopper crawled through the gate once again.

But this time, they weren't alone.

* * *

"Where…"

Dark vines. Torn curtain. Bony ghouls in her family's clothes.

"You're home-" a familiar voice said. "You're home. You're safe now, sweetheart."

The nightmarish vision was gone. Willow blinked sleepy eyes and saw her dad's face close by.

Just seeing things. That was all. She was safe now.

She was home.

"Dad?" the child tried to sit up and found that there was no strength to do it. There was something pricking in her elbow and tubes running across her face under her nose, so maybe her inability to jerk up was for the best.

Was this a hospital? Her quick visual search seemed to confirm that.

"It's me," her dad confirmed desperately. Weathered hands found her own tiny one and squeezed it.

"Dad…" Willow let herself give a weak smile. "'missed you. Really missed you."

His other hand went gently behind her head.

"Never l-letting you go again," he breathed out just as weakly.

Neither would.

* * *

Mr. Byers had made him swear to be careful.

But Nat didn't have to be told it.

The man looked wrecked every time he would flutter from one of his daughters rooms to the others. No matter what, he may not have been there for both of their wakings. But for once it seemed the Byers's luck held out.  
Nat had woken up first. He'd left the room feeling woozy but refused to go home with his family yet. Not until- not until-

Then Johanna had come to next. After Mr. Byers left her room, Nat had asked to go in.

And then in he went.

She was on her hospital bed looking far more colorful than he'd last seen her. Which, granted, was still sickly pale. Enough so to be worrying. But nothing like that shade they'd all been in the...the Upside Down, was that the name everyone seemed to be going with?

Nat scooted a chair over to the side of her bed and sat down. Both were quiet for a few minutes.

"So-"

"H-hey-"

He laughed.

"You go first," Nat gestured. It seemed to take Johanna a moment to reorient herself to the conversation and then she answered.

"n...nothing, I just. I'm glad y-you're okay."

He offered her a grin that was only somewhat hollow and mostly just one that screamed 'inside joke'. Well, he supposed they did share an inside experience to something most humans couldn't say they'd shared.

"That's generous. 'Not sure I can ever be 'okay' okay again."  
That was conceded among the both of them. And so they moved, haltingly at first but warming up to the smoother banter they'd shared while trapped and surviving, to other subjects.

Those few days in the Upside Down were nightmares. Nat wished he could scrub away so many of those memories but they came to haunt him uninhibited.

But there was a thing or two he really wouldn't want to scrub away.

* * *

"You won't believe what happened when you were gone-"

"It was mental."

That was Dusty's deadpan. Of course it was. The delivery and simple understatement almost made Mikaela smile.

Almost.

"You had a funeral!" Lucy kept going.

"Jim Hayes was crying-"

"And Tracy peed herself-"

"What?" Will asked, although who knew which sentence it was she was asking about.

Dusty and Lucy elaborated on the latter while Mikaela looked at them with a contagious grin.

Even may have been gone. It may have left her feeling empty.

But she wouldn't be down with Willow. Will had gone through way too much. All Mikaela wanted to do was reassure her. Make her grin too.

The girl in the bed lifted the back of her hand to her mouth and coughed. The hacking stopped after a few seconds but they'd all lost their smiles at that point.

"You okay?" Mikaela tapped the others shoulder. It was a dumb question but she couldn't help it.

Will's response was odd.

"It got me."

Her expression was eerie. It was still. It was unchanging.

It was far too disconnected to the reality of everything that had happened for Mikaela's tastes.

"The demogorgon," Will continued, never looking away from her, "It got me."

"I-it's okay," Mikaela looked around the party. "It's gone. It's dead."

And it may not have been the only one. But she didn't believe that. It just meant Even would have to wait until another Snow Ball. It meant Will would have to only hear stories about him rather than meet him.

"We made a new friend," she started, "He stopped it. He saved us. But he's gone now."

There was another silence. Dusty broke it.

"His name's Eleven."

"Like the number?" Will bounced right onto the new subject.

"Well, we call him Even for short," Lucy shrugged with a grin.

"He's basically a wizard-" Dusty kept going while Lucy whispered exaggeratedly that "he has superpowers".

And after Mikaela decided to join by saying Even was more like a Yoda than a wizard, the party fell into easy conversation again. They talked, Will asked her almost unbelieving "really?"s and they all found comfort in seeing each other safe and sound and together as a group once more.

* * *

**Epilogue**

**A month later**

* * *

"Something is coming..."

The game masters voice kept the attention of all. Three faces, all plastered with the same serious nervousness, drew even closer over the game board under the blanket fort.

Mikaela allowed the tenseness to grow, thriving in their anticipation.

"It's the thessalhydra," Dusty repeated for at least the fifth time in a roll. A foot away, Lucy rolled her eyes.

"It's not the thessalhydra."

The game master allowed them to bicker for a few more seconds before she slammed the statue down.

"Damn it," the curly haired girl muttered loudly.

The only one to not have joined the bickering was Willow. But it was to her that Mikaela turned.

"Will, your action!"

The smallest girl looked back and forth.

"What should I do? I-"

And, just like she'd done the previous campaign, Lucy quickly suggested fireballing. All three turned to Dusty expectantly. The girl had a hand on her chin as if deep in thought before finally speaking up to say:

"Fireball the son of a bitch."

There was no indecision this time around. And this time around?

The dice rolled a fourteen.

* * *

For once, Hop had actually pulled herself up early in the morning.

She woke in a bed. There were no blinds to spread the sun's light too early.

Those were something she had quickly replaced with curtains in the cabin.

The woman showered fast and ate a fast breakfast. Then she dressed, took a half dose of Tuinal, and walked into the living room. Or meant to. But the woman found herself distracted by the mirror in the hallway.

Today she was heading to work with the cops she'd spent the last five years working alongside. But this time it wasn't in the plaid suit of a secretary.

After they'd brought both Byers children and the Wheeler boy back, in Willow's case from the dead, Hawkins had been in confused but happy uproar. Among those confused but happy people was Chief Renca.

She really wished she could have told Forest more details. But Hop had sworn not to say a word about the lab. The answers had to stay hidden. But he'd still seemed to know that she'd been in part responsible for the miraculous returns.

Well, both she and John.

It was going to be nice to see him today. If only she could tell him more. Or invite him over for dinner sometime. But Hop had never been a good liar. Doing that was far too risky. She'd just have to remain friends at a healthy distance.

Absently, she brushed down the baby blue material and straightened up to get a look in the mirror.

The badge shined.

In the corner of her vision, a child leaned forward from where he'd poked his head out of his room to get a good look at her.

"Pretty," he said simply.

The Hop in the mirror smiled back.

* * *

It paid better than the market did.

But that hadn't been the whole reason John had taken the job.

When Renca had told Hop he wanted to look over her requests to join the force but worried about getting a replacement for her current job, John had known what to do. It was a chance to repay her for everything she'd done for him and his family.

He knew how much she wanted that job.

So John had asked the chief if he could apply for the soon to be empty spot. It had been worth it just to see the shocked surprise on Hop's normally stoic face.

The hours were full time, just as the last job had been. It had been a shame to quit on Donald after all those years. But Hawkins was a small town; the manager wasn't angry.

Which meant he had no bias against their family when Johanna came to apply there.

It could only be part time for her. She had a long way to recover and so did Will. John didn't want any of them out of the house alone, but he'd realized he could only enforce that with his youngest. Regardless, the teen had agreed. She wanted to make the money but had every intention to be home in the day earlier than Will would be.

So that she would never come home alone again. Not after everything that had happened.

In the mornings, John made breakfast and left for the station. Every afternoon, he was back.

Retail hadn't been a bad job at all.

But even if this wasn't a chance for him to stay working alongside Hop, John still felt as if this job let him give back to the world far more than the last had.

And that sort of man was exactly the type of father he strove to be.

* * *

They weren't dating again. Not exactly.

Nat had told her he wasn't ready for it to start again. There was too much about the Upside Down he remembered. Too many sour memories about the two of them tied with the horrifying visage of his dead best friend.

But that didn't mean they didn't still see each other.

Steph was still in love. And, when he heard about everything she'd gone through for him, Nat couldn't say he wasn't proud and enamored too.

She'd left her friends for him. Left her social status. Bashed a monster with a bat and lit in on fire right in front of him.

Ruined a part of her perfect parents perfect house for him.

All of that should have made him three times as attracted to her.

But Nat just couldn't reach it anymore. He still liked her. All those things she'd done for him made him like her even more.

It just didn't have attraction tied to it anymore.

That part of his mind had been blocked off. A part of him thought time could remove that barrier. So he'd told her and Steph had taken that as authoritative proof that they'd be dating again soon. She'd give him that cute smile and they'd hug and it would feel really sweet.

Just not the same as before.

Another part of him didn't think it was ever coming back. Trauma had evolved him into a different person. Steph loved Nat. But he wasn't really Nat anymore.

That part knew that the barrier was a part of that forced, unnatural maturation.

Still. He leaned closer to her as they laughed over watching _Risky Business_. It didn't mean they didn't like each other a whole lot.

* * *

_Blood_.

Blood and bone.

Yellows and browns and grays-

Wet on her hands. Wet pressing down her fingers.

Red pooling on blue ground.

Half a face looking up. A smile carved there, flashing her the sight of gums and teeth and rot-

Eyes missing iris' or pupils- just white and red veins and-

Screams. Her own.

Or Willow's. Perhaps her fathers.

Wet fingers curving around her hands too strongly to slip away from. A strong grip.

_A possessive grip-_

\- She shot up with a strangled gasp.

Nothing was there- Johanna shook into a seated position on her empty bed. No hunter with her smiling jawlessly up at his executioner.

She coughed and felt her throat contracting frantically. The undigested contents of her stomach revolted.

Johanna pulled away from the sheets, retched, and ran from her room to the bathroom. Shut the door gently behind her. Fell to her knees by the toilet and vomited.

The bathroom was so _cold_. The wooden toilet seat was icy to the touch as she gripped it desperately. Her hair was damp and hanging from her head over her face; the dampness spread down her back. She was freezing and sweating regardless.

A black form plopped into the toilet water. Its small body twisted frantically in the liquid. Dying.

Johanna felt for the handle and flushed the vomit and creature away before she could watch it still from its death throes.

_(She couldn't watch another person or creature die at her hands right now)_

_(Next time, the sink, the sink wouldn't kill it, the drains would host it)_

She was still shaking. Shivering so hard _it hurt_. Gradually she slid away from the toilet and leaned against the walls of the bathroom. The growths there moved at her touch. The spores flew from her breath. Her arms clung moved around her and she buried her head between their shaking protection.

The roiling in her stomach she'd woken from her nightmare with had yet to die away. It was manageable now only because of its emptiness. But she needed water. She was so very thirsty.

When Johanna managed to contain her shivers and move up from her crouch to stand weakly and grip the sink, the bathroom had returned to its natural state. Yellow light. Clean walls.

She felt them all there still.

The faucets turned on with a startling loudness. After finding her breath again, Johanna leaned down and drank just enough to calm to taste of bile. The taint didn't completely leave.

_(It never did)_

_(Not since the hunter)_

Then she flicked the light off and returned to her damp sheets. Even after pulling them up and wrapping inside them deeply, Johanna couldn't return to sleep. Her open eyes just saw the teeth and claws and bloody hands on her own-

Her shut eyes only painted the same images on blank eyelids.

The water in her stomach roiled at the memory of the dream she'd woken from.

Of the reality behind it all.

The door to her room creaked and Johanna flinched. She twisted in her blankets to see what was there

_(bipedal, head wide like a flower, arms so long)_

and saw a small figure. A familiar figure. A safe figure.

A loved figure.

Willow crawled wordlessly into her bed. She wrapped her arms around her big sister and they both lay in the darkness.

Nothing came out of that darkness now.

"I still see things too," the little voice broke the silence. The arms tightened. "I could hear you in the restroom."

"'m sorry I woke you up," Johanna squished her face into her pillow.

The arms squeezed comfortably again.

"I wasn't sleeping," Willow reassured softly.

There were so many things wrong with that statement- a girl her age shouldn't have insomnia, shouldn't have nightmares, shouldn't shouldn't shouldn't-

_(shouldn't be friendless, shouldn't be terrified of falling snow)_

_( shouldn't have gone through any of that)_

Johanna turned around and pulled her sister closer until they were both properly hugging.

"Does dad know?"

The hair under her chin tickled as Willow shook her head.

"He has too much to worry about."

Right. Which was why Johanna hadn't told him about the things she coughed up. Or told anyone else.

_(They were too worried already)_

She wished she could tell her sister about them just as much as she wished to never bring up anything monster related to her sister again; but her wishes didn't matter. Whenever she tried to speak up about them, Johanna couldn't go on with it; internally, she always stopped herself.

That something in her that wanted to keep her loved ones from having to continue the nightmare.

Or so the preferable explanation went.

"Well," Johanna tightened her own grip, "Whenever you can't sleep or have a ni-nightmare of some kind, come in here. Just like you did tonight."

The two sisters didn't sleep that night. But it was the safest they'd felt since they'd both left that world with passengers; ones that refused to give either the peace to recover.

They had each other though. They had their father. They had their friends.

Even if they couldn't talk about what was still happening to them, the Byers children still felt more secure than they had ever felt before.

* * *

_AN- This story started out of simple curiosity for how a genderswap of season 1 would look._  
_It spiraled way, way out of control from there. Looking back on it all, this entire story really was a giant experiment on genderswaps, au's, canon novelizations, plot fics, chapter fics, and long fics. I've mostly dealt with oneshots before this so this was quite the challenge at times to stay motivated for._  
_Readers were a big part of that motivation, so I want to give a big shoutout to all of you who fave and especially to those who commented. And a big huge thank you to IceCreamRaven for inspiring me to make this and leaving such thoughtful replies on every twist this thing took._  
_At the start, I had this mostly plotted out but not the character arcs. I had no idea if I was going to support any of the ships here. The characters and what ended up being the ships pieced together into something that I hope made its own voice instead of being a total copy of the show while also paying homage to its source material_  
_The ending doesn't perfectly in line with canon which leaves a lot to the imagination as to how a season 2 following this would look- likely, Will would still play the role as the Mindflayer's spy while Johanna would be with Murray and Nat and that distance from the gate would keep her from being useful to MF. Even would still run from Hop to meet his 'family' and return to kick ass and all. So on and so on._  
_Please leave a comment if you're so inclined to tell me such thoughts or really any that you had : and thank you all so much for reading!_


End file.
